-NRLF 


CARLTON  MCCARTHY, 

Author  "Soldier  Life,"  A.  N.  Va. 


PRICE: 

To  the  Personal  Fiiends  oi  the  Author,  $1.00. 
To  the  Public  genera'.y,  SO  cents. 


OCCASIONALLY    HE    HALTED    ON    A    CORNER    TO    LET    HIMSELF 
STRIKE    OUT    IN    A    NEW    DIRECTION. 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED 
FELLOW-CITIZEN 


BY 

CARLTON  MCCARTHY 

AUTHOR  SOLDIER  LIFE  A.  N.  VA. 


"  The  great  are  great  only  because  ive  are  on  our  knees.      Let   us 
rise!" — PRUD'HOMME. 


RICHMOND,  VA.: 
WHITTET  &  SHEPPKRSON,  PRINTERS 


COPYRIGHT,  1889 
BY 

CARLTON  MCCARTHY 


%2/r 


THIS  VOLUME 

IS   LOVINGLY  DED1CATEP   TO  ALL   WHO  ARE   DOOMED   TO   LIVE,  AND 
TO   DIE,   WITHOUT  BEING  AT  ALL  DISTINGUISHED,  AND 
WHO     DO     NOT     PROPOSE     TO     BE     DIS 
TRESSED     ABOUT     IT 


S7 


PREFACE 


THE  labor  expended  in  the  preparation  of  this  story 
has  so  exhausted  the  resources  of  the  author  that 
he  finds  himself  unable  to  undertake,  with  any  hope  of 
success,  the  more  arduous  work  of  writing  an  apology 
for  it.  The  probabilities  are  that  those  who  are  pleased 
with  it  will  prepare  their  own  apologies,  and  that  those 
who  are  not  pleased  would  not  accept  the  very  best 
apology  the  author  could  make.  Those  who  treat  the 
story  with  indifference,  or  with  contempt,  are,  of  course, 
not  entitled  to  any  consideration  from  the  sensitive  author, 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED 
FELLOW-CITIZEN 


CHAPTER  I. 

SCHNEY. 

IN  THE  cellar  of  a  great  wholesale  grocery  establish 
ment  where  hogsheads  of  sugar  and  molasses  were 
so  numerous  that  all  sense  of  their  size  was  lost,  and 
where  the  light  of  day,  hurt  at  the  small  provision  made 
for  its  entrance,  would 'hardly  go,  Schney,  clad  in  thick 
and  everlasting  garments,  scraped  (away  with  a  steel 
spade  at  the  thick  scale  of  molasses  and  dirt  which  had 
accumulated  on  the  floor.  When  he  had  scraped  together 
a  few  bushels  of  the  obstinate  material  he  carried  it,  in  a 
huge  iron  vessel,  to  the  elevator,  to  be  hoisted  out  and 
carted  away. 

Mr.  Schney  was  known  to  all  the  house,  from  the 
principal  of  it  down  to  the  office  boy,  as  simply  "Schney." 
Nobody  there  knew  whether  he  was  married  or  single, 
where  he  came  from,  what  his  past  had  been  or  his  future 
would  be;  and  nobody  cared  a  copper.  Schney  himself 
knew  only  where  he  came  from,  and  that  he  had  a  wife 
and  children.  His  life  was  spent  in  the  cellar  with  the 
hogsheads,  and  the  man  seemed  to  fit  the  place.  Schncy's 
advantages  had  been  limited  and  peculiar,  and  he  had 


8  OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

made  the  most  of  them.  He  was  not  required  by  the 
circle  in  which  he  moved  to  dress  well  or  live  decently, 
and  so  he  did  neither.  His  pay  was  sufficient  to  supply 
all  his  wants.  In  fact,  Schney  saved  money  constantly, 
and  as  constantly  lost  almost  everything  else  which  makes 
life  endurable.  He  was  such  a  man  that  money  was  his 
only  hope.  His  wisdom  consisted  of  the  knowledge  of 
the  fact  that  he  was  grossly  ignorant  and  almost  without 
what  is  commonly  called  natural  ability.  As  he  slowly  ac 
cumulated  money  he  strove  to  make  plans  for  the  future, 
but  had  never  been  able  to  do  much  more  than  resolve  to 
keep  what  he  had  and  save  more  if  possible.  These  are 
simple  ideas,  it  is  true,  but  they  constitute  the  foundation 
of  many  princely  fortunes. 

One  day  Schney  suddenly  realized  the  fact  that  he  had 
some  hundreds  of  dollars  in  bank,  and  it  was  to  him  a 
dimly  pleasant  idea.  It  is  true  that  ten  years  of  toil  had 
been  necessary  to  produce  this  store;  but  of  this  he  did 
not  think.  His  wife  had  been  for  ten  years  a  servant  of 
all  work  and  his  children  dirty  brats.  But  Schney  was 
not  the  man  to  be  distressed  by  things  like  these.  He  was 
so  thoroughly  coarse  that  he  escaped  nearly  all  the  ex 
quisite  pains  of  a  higher  nature,  and  groaned  only  when 
pain  racked  his  flesh  and  bones.  And  yet  at  this  point 
in  his  career  Schney  was  a  comparatively  decent  man. 
At  any  rate  he  had  not  learned  to  make  lying  pay  o*- 
meanness  profitable.  When  he  was  mean  or  when  he 
lied  it  was  for  the  fun  of  the  thing  or  because  it  was 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.  9 

perfectly  natural.  He  was  a  thief,  in  a  small  way,  stealing 
occasionally  some  sugar  or  some  molasses,  but  he  never 
felt  any  loss  of  self-respect  or  any  pain  of  conscience  on 
that  account,  because,  in  fact,  he  had  no  self-respect  of 
any  appreciable  quantity  and  no  conscience  sufficiently 
developed  to  suffer.  But,  strange  to  say,  Schney  did  have 
a  sort  of  ambition,  and  was  both  conceited  and  avaricious. 
And  so  it  happened  that  while  the  steel  spade,  driven  by 
his  brawny  arms,  scraped  the  floor  of  the  cellar,  Mr. 
Schney  longed  for  his  idea  of  a  better  life.  Not  that  he 
wanted  rest,  or  time  for  thought,  or  even  clean  comfort, 
but  the  grandeur  of  a  rather  more  independent  style  of 
life.  Schney  began  to  want  to  be  his  own  "boss,"  with 
a  business  of  his  own,  and  to  wear  a  white  shirt  and  a 
beaver ;  have  Sunday  clothes,  and  be,  as  it  were,  a  gentle 
man.  He  resolved  that  it  should  be  so. 

When  the  labor  of  the  day  was  ended  Schney  reported 
at  the  office  window,  hat  in  hand,  for  leave  to  go.  The 
junior  clerk,  in  the  same  condescending  tone  which  he 
had  used  for  several  years,  gave  a  gracious  consent,  and 
the  porter  of  the  great  house  walked  slowly  homeward. 
When  he  reached  his  home  he  had  been  transformed  by 
a  decision  and  a  resolve  destined  to  change  the  current  of 
his  life. 

That  very  night  Mrs.  Schney  was  informed  that 
henceforth  the  direction  of  their  family  was  to  be  upward 
and  onward ;  that  her  husband,  so  long  the  slave  of  cir 
cumstances,  was  now  about  to  break  away  from  this 


io  OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

most  unreasonable  restraint,  and,  though  he  did  not  so 
express  it,  tread  the  ascending  scale.  His  wife  had  suf 
fered  long,  without  any  hope  but  that  which  sustains 
mothers  when  they  look  upon  their  children.  If  a  man 
but  dares  to  hope,  his  wife  instantly  believes. 

As  in  America  there  are  no  fixed  degrees  in  the  social 
scale,  and  no  heights  to  which  anything  human  may  not 
aspire,  there  can  be  no  pretenders.  A  man  is  what  he  is* 
or  what  he  becomes.  The  fact  is,  the  law  needs  no  prece 
dent  and  fixes  no  principle.  When,  therefore,  Mr.  Schney 
determined  to  rise,  there  was  nothing  to  oppose  his  pro 
gress.  He  was  already  prepared  by  the  past  to  endure 
without  pain  a  life  which  would  be  torture  to  a  man  de 
scending  to  it.  He  was  rising,  and  had  already  learned 
that  decision  is  both  comfort  and  power.  He  felt  even 
now  that  he  was  no  longer  a  servant,  but  a  man.  When 
he  presented  himself  at  bank  and  asked  for  his  cash  he 
was  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  treated  with  deference. 
It  was  an  inspiration.  From  that  moment  his  small 
ambition  and  his  well-developed  avarice  grew  side  by 
side  like  twin  plants,  and  his  conceit,  like  another  weed, 
grew  rapidly.  When  the  cashier  shook  his  hand  cordially 
and  asked  him  to  continue  his  very  valuable  account,  as 
a  sort  of  compliment  to  the  bank,  he  planted  enough 
vanity  in  the  new  customer  to  ruin  him  forever  if  he  had 
been  an  ordinary  man.  But  Schney  was  an  extraordinary 
man,  and  the  load  of  vanity  he  carried  away  only  served 
to  equip  him  for  the  voyage  of  life. 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.  n 

Mr.  Schney  had  never  formulated  the  idea,  but  was 
nevertheless  guided  by  that  famous  maxim  that  it  is  well 
to  begin  at  the  bottom ;  and  who  so  well  adapted  to  prac 
tice  that  theory  as  he,  being  then  as  near  the  bottom  as  a 
passive  man  ever  gets  ?  Any  move  he  might  make  would 
surely  put  him  at  the  approved  starting  point.  Being 
low,  ignorant,  and  unskilful  even  in  crime,  his  only  chance 
for  success  in  independent  conflict  with  the  world  was 
necessarily  to  come  from  a  struggle  with  some  element 
baser  or  weaker  than  himself.  And  so  with  shrewdness 
and  modesty  he  selected  the  simplest  form  of  business  and 
located  it  in  the  midst  of  ignorance  and  vice,  where  the 
victims  were  numerous  and  willing,  and  where  success 
seemed  not  merely  possible,  but  almost  certain,  for  a  man 
even  as  stupid  as  he  knew  himself  to  be. 

There  was  great  rejoicing  when  the  family  moved  to 
the  new  place,  and  the  poor  wife's  heart  beat  with  a  new 
sense  of  happiness  when  she  saw  over  the  door,  in  beau 
tiful  golden  letters,  the  name  of  Conrad  Schney!  Over 
the  store  were  lovely  rooms,  as  white  as  the  plasterer's 
art  could  make  them ;  a  room  for  the  wife  and  a  room  for 
their  daughter,  Mina,  and  a  room  for  the  boys — and  yet 
another  room,  henceforth  to  be  the  parlor.  Back  of  the 
store,  for  convenience,  the  diining-room.  Everything  was 
arranged. 

At  once  the  trade  began  and  never  slacked.  From  day 
to  day,  and  indeed  for  nearly  half  the  night,  greasy  coin 
and  odorous  paper  money  tumbled  into  the  money-box  of 


12  OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

Schney,  and  as  constantly  a  stream  of  stupefied  and  dis 
eased  negroes  and  besotted  white  men  and  women  poured 
in  and  out  of  the  busy  place.  The  proprietor  was  at  first 
astonished  and  then  delighted  at  his  success.  He  saw  that 
his  future  was  assured,  and  at  once  gave  himself  without 
reserve  to  the  prosecution  of  his  business.  It  never  oc 
curred  to  him  that  he  was  doing  anything  disreputable  or 
mean.  On  the  other  hand,  he  was  greatly  pleased  with 
himself  and  his  business,  regarding  himself  as  an  enter 
prising  and  successful  merchant,  and  would  have  been 
greatly  surprised  if  some  rare  honest  man  had  told  him 
the  truth  about  himself.  It  would  not  have  saved  him, 
however,  because  Schney  was  already  clothed  in  that  im 
penetrable  armor  which  all  men  wear  who  have  deter 
mined,  for  a  purpose,  to  abase  themselves.  Mr.  Schney 
was  ignorantly,  but  yet  exactly,  imitating  some  brilliant 
examples. 

At  the  end  of  a  month  Schney  again  appeared  at  bank 
as  a  depositor.  He  had  some  vague  fears  about  the  safety 
of  the  institution,  and  could  not  rid  himself  of  the  idea 
that  as  the  bank  was  organized  by  shrewd  men  solely  for 
the  purpose  of  making  money,  it  might  by  some  means 
"make"  some  of  his  money.  He  knew  how  indifferent  he 
was  himself  about  the  mode,  and  was  afraid  that  the 
bank,  inspired  by  the  same  purpose,  might  be  equally  as 
unscrupulous.  Such  men  like  to  see  the  man  highest  in 
authority.  So  the  anxious  depositor  was  led  into  the 
solemn  quiet  of  the  president's  room,  where  he  was  re- 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.  13 

ceived  with  soft  graciousness,  and  had  his  idle  fears 
removed  to  that  extent  that  he  became  once  more  a  de 
positor. 

The  president  knew  the  sensitiveness  of  capital,  and 
especially  small  capital,  having  passed  through  the  agonies 
of  acquisition,  and  though  he  had  never  been  as  mean  as 
Schney — certainly  not  mean  in  the  same  way — he  had 
sacrificed  the  best  years  of  his  life  to  the  same  ambition 
which  now  moved  his  new  customer.  He  -wondered 
when  Schney  was  gone  that  he  had  been  able  to  receive 
him  so  cordially  and  treat  him  so  respectfully,  knowing  all 
the  time  what  a  wretched  character  he  was,  and  remem 
bering  how  often  he  had  been  obliged  to  treat  far  better 
men  and  even  old  personal  friends  with  safe  distance. 
But  the  puzzle  was  soon  explained.  The  president  ex 
cused  and  justified  himself  by  the  simple  plea  that  he  was 
there  for  business;  that  getting  deposits  was  business; 
that  a  man  with  money  to  deposit  ought  to  have  recogni 
tion  and  deference,  and  that,  however  shameful  it  might 
be  from  any  other  standpoint,  from  a  business  standpoint 
Schney  was  entitled  to  polite  consideration  as  a  successful 
man  and  promising  customer  of  the  bank.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  president  felt  that  it  was  his  duty  to  guard 
the  bank  against  many  well-meaning  and  respectable  peo 
ple  who,  not  being  so  utterly  lost  to  principle  or  so  enter 
prising  as  Schney,  would  probably  never  do  as  well.  The 
great  burden  of  the  president's  life  was  an  ever  present 
dread  that  some  man  admirable  in  every  other  way,  but 


14  OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

as  yet  a  little  weak  financially,  would  drop  in  on  him  and 
ask  a  favor  with  a  risk  attached.  His  ideal  community 
would  never  be  realized  until  all  the  people  learned  to 
make,  save,  and  deposit,  and  borrow  only  on  collaterals. 

A  man  cannot  be  a  good  bank  president  without  letting 
go  some  parts  of  himself  for  which  he  will  sigh  and  sigh 
in  vain  as  the  end  approaches,  nor  without  accumulating 
some  traits  which  will  mysteriously  and  persistently  sepa 
rate  him  from  his  fellow-men.  It  appears  that  every  man 
must  choose  his  part,  there  being  a  limit  to  what  each  may 
have.  Men  imagine  that  they  add  constantly  to  their  pos 
sessions,  while,  in  fact,  the  new  acquirements  simply 
crowd  out  the  older  and  many  times  the  sweeter  treasures ; 
and  a  being  who  was  in  early  life  furnished  bountifully 
by  the  Master  with  the  necessaries  of  a  happy  and  a 
healthy  life,  fills  himself  with  husks  and  dies  among  the 
swine. 

Schney's  credit  was  soon  established  not  only  in  the 
bank,  but  everywhere.  Men  who  would  have  blushed  to 
put  the  thought  into  words  trusted  him  cheerfully,  be 
cause  they  knew  that  a  man  who  had  gone  down  into 
the  depths  as  he  had  would  make  money  and  pay 
promptly.  Prompt  pay  hideth  a  multitude  of  sins. 

Schney  loved  neither  virtue  nor  vice.  He  studied  in  his 
dull  way  the  capacity  of  each  to  produce  money,  and 
learned  that  for  rude  hands  like  his  vice  was  the  best 
tool.  He  flattered  his  most  abandoned  customers,  and  en 
couraged  them  in  anything  wicked  which  yielded  them 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.  15 

pleasure  and  brought  him  profit.  He  could  see  that  the 
debauchery  must  be  a  source  of  profit  to  somebody,  and 
taking  a  simple  business  view  of  the  matter,  made  haste 
to  monopolize  all  the  material  within  his  reach.  Business 
is  business  always,  and  sometimes  crime. 

Against  the  advice  of  his  wife  Schney  added  a  room 
and  a  few  tables  for  convenient  gambling,  and  made  ex 
tensive  and  costly  improvements  about  his  place.  If  ever 
there  was  a  thoroughly  complacent  and  hopeful  man, 
Schney  was.  What  more  could  a  man  wish  who  could  see 
his  business  prospering,  and  who  knew  that  the  basest 
and  strongest  passions  of  human  nature  and  all  the 
powers  of  evil  were  pledged  for  his  success.  Schney  knew 
all  this,  and  acted  upon  it,  but  he  would  never  have 
dreamed  of  expressing  it  exactly  so. 


CHAPTER  II. 

MlNA. 

FOR  a  long  time  Mrs.  Schney  was  forced  to  be  near 
the  business,  and  to  know  much  of  its  vile  associa 
tions.  Though  her  nature  revolted,  she  submitted  like  a 
good  wife,  and  was  silent.  At  last  her  patience  was  re 
warded,  and  she  received  her  freedom.  "Pauline,"  said 
Schney,  "I  have  a  man  hired  for  the  bar,  and  now  you 
will  take  care  of  the  house  and  children." 

It  was  a  proud  day — a  man  in  his  employment!  So 
now  the  wife  drifted  away  from  the  business,  and  saw  it 
only  in  its  results:  servants,  handsome  dresses,  better 
furniture,  more  rest,  and  even  some  leisure.  Her  husband 
seemed  to  be  happy,  though  rude  and  overbearing,  and^ 
all  things  considered,  and  in  contrast  with  the  past,  was 
generous,  and  even  indulgent.  One  creditable  thing  he 
did  in  keeping  Mina  away  from  the  low  frequenters  of 
his  bar  and  store.  He  loved  the  girl,  and  had  good  reason 
to  be  proud  of  her  beauty  and  intelligence  and  amiability. 
He  had  no  idea  that  she  would  ever  be  useful  to  him  or 
ever  necessary  to  the  success  of  his  plans. 

At  the  public  school  Mina  saw  other  girls  who  seemed 
poorer  than  herself,  and  not  so  well  dressed,  who  had 
some  mysterious  charm  of  manner  and  of  voice  which 
she  could  not  assume  or  imitate.  At  times  it  seemed  to 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.  17 

6e  only  pride  or  vanity;  but  their  kindness  and  courtesy 
contradicted  that  thought.  She  longed  to  be  like  those 
girls  with  the  mysterious,  quiet  air,  and  confessed  to  her 
mother  that  there  was  something  about  them  which  made 
her  dissatisfied  with  herself.  Her  mother  comforted  her 
with  the  assurance  that  if  she  would  be  patient  she  would 
yet  learn  the  secret  and  be  the  equal  of  her  schoolmates. 

The  mother  had  already  learned  that  a  man  rises  in 
the  social  scale  more  readily  than  a  woman,  though  the 
woman  be  his  wife  or  his  daughter.  She  saw  her  husband 
was  on  good  terms  with  men  whose  wives  would  never 
recognize  her  or  ever  forget  the  porter's  wife.  The  poor 
woman,  being  greatly  superior  to  her  husband,  was  keenly 
sensitive  where  he  was  utterly  indifferent.  She  cheered 
and  encouraged  her  daughter,  and  smilingly  predicted  a 
happy  future  for  her,  but  recognized  the  difficulties  which 
would  meet  her  in  the  way,  and  would  be  made  even 
greater  and  more  dangerous  by  the  rapid  rise  of  her 
father.  The  wife  and  mother  questioned  in  her  heart  the 
desirability  of  their  surprising  good  fortune.  She  did 
many  weary  hours  of  thinking,  which  the  wizards  of  the 
pen  would  have  been  glad  to  seize  and  fasten  to  paper 
and  place  to  their  own  credit.  She  is  a  base  woman,  in 
deed,  whose  thoughts  do  not  take  on  beauty  when  her 
children  are  the  theme.  Mothers  are  now  the  only 
workers  of  miracles. 

Every  day  Mina  went  to  school,  and  three  times  a  week 
she  had  a  music  lesson  from  a  famous  paralytic  professor, 


1 8  OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

who  laid  at  full  length  on  his  bed  and  made  angelic  music 
on  the  guitar.  He  trained  her  head  and  her  fingers  and 
her  voice  for  the  pay  he  received,  and  because  he  was 
kind,  he  taught  her  a  graceful  carriage,  a  proper  accent, 
some  rules  of  etiquette,  and  some  rudiments  of  dancing. 
Whenever  she  left  him  he  would  say,  "What  eyes !  what 
eyes !" 

Of  course  this  chance  to  rise  out  of  her  surroundings 
came  from  her  mother,  and  had  only  the  consent  of  her 
father.  Mrs.  Schney  had  an  inner  guide  which  served 
her  well  through  all  her  days  of  deep  poverty,  and  was 
now  leading  her  with  wonderful  wisdom  through  all  the 
novel  experiences  of  sudden  prosperity.  She  recalled 
daily  the  patient  example  of  her  mother,  whom  she  re 
membered  as  a  silver-haired  old  lady,  with  a  soft,  round 
face,  and  a  gentle,  pathetic  voice,  who  was  always  scrupu 
lously  neat  and  never  idle — Pauline  Boom,  the  baker's 
widow  and  successor  to  his  business.  She  remembered 
the  little  shop  over  which  her  mother  presided,  and  how 
respectful  were  all  the  customers  who  came  to  buy. 
Though  but  a  little  thing  when  her  mother  died,  she  had 
seen  that  there  was  in  her  something  which  prevailed 
over  her  poverty  and  which  commanded  the  respect  of 
all  her  neighbors,  rich  and  poor.  Then  she  recalled  her 
mother's  hatred  of  dirt  and  squalor,  and  her  heroic  fight 
with  all  the  downward  tendencies  of  poverty.  All  tne 
motherly  counsel  of  her  own  childhood  came  back  in 
misty  fragments,  and  with  patient  effort  she  reshaped  it 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.  19 

all,  beautified  it  with  her  own  added  love,  and  pressed 
it  upon  her  daughter.  And  so  the  old  woman,  who  had 
been  good  and  true  and  brave,  but  who  had  not  been 
spared  to  guide  her  own  child,  was  laying  hold  of  the 
grandchild  and  shaping  her  character  and  destiny. 

The  odds  were  against  the  girl.  The  mother,  though 
ready  to  make  any  sacrifice  for  her,  was  compelled  to 
submit  passively  to  the  slightest  whim  of  the  father, 
whose  desire  for  indepedence  and  freedom  from  toil  had 
now  become  insatiable  greed  for  money  and  furious  and 
impatient  desire  for  recognition  as  a  man  of  energy  and 
business  sense.  As  is  too  often  the  case  with  far  better 
men,  Schney  was  all  smile-:  and  good  humor  to  his  cus 
tomers  and  the  public,  but  absent,  irritable,  and  unreason 
able  with  his  family.  He  had  a  secret  fear  that  his  wife 
would  never  concede  his  greatness,  and  that  she  would 
measure  him  always  by  a  standard  rather  different  from 
that  which  the  public  would  apply.  He  would  have  com 
plained  of  Mina's  advantages,  and  would  probably  have 
put  an  end  to  them,  but  for  the  fact  that  he  imagined 
himself  rapidly  rising  in  favor  with  the  world,  and  there 
fore  without  occasion  for  envy.  Mina,  he  thought,  would 
be  pretty  and  accomplished,  but  her  father  would  be  rich. 
Having  thus  made  himself  comfortable,  he  allowed  the 
mother  to  go  on  with  her  plans. 

While  the  father  with  feverish  energy  pushed  his 
trade,  and  in  the  foul  atmosphere  of  his  place  laughed 
and  joked  with  his  polluted  customers  and  victims,  the 


2o  OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

mother,  seated  in  the  quiet  of  a  chamber  as  neat  as  toil 
could  make  It,  strove  to  weave  about  her  children  a  strong 
defense  against  the  future.  Mina,  though  she  did  not 
know  why,  felt  that  her  mother  was  her  only  and  indis 
pensable  friend,  and  was  never  dissatisfied  when  gazing 
into  her  face,  and  listening  to  the  magic  tones  of  her 
voice.  She  loved  her  father,  too,  and  was  always  ready 
to  give  him  the  sweetest  evidence  of  it,  but  he  could  not, 
being  the  man  he  was,  give  her  in  return  anything  which 
was  fully  the  love  she  craved.  And  here  were  the  first 
fruits  of  the  determined,  and  so  far  successful,  effort  of  a 
man  to  rise  by  throwing  aside  the  burden  of  principle :  A 
silenced  wife  and  a  daughter  studying  the  mystery  of  her 
unwilling  estrangement  from  her  father. 

Mina  welcomed  the  return  of  music  day,  and  went 
gladly  to  the  chamber  of  the  old  professor,  where  she  had 
always  a  hearty  welcome.  The  old  man  complimented 
her  in  French  or  Italian  or  German,  as  the  fancy  struck 
him  or  the  language  seemed  most  expressive,  and  loved 
her  more  and  more.  Then  he  loaned  her  his  choicect 
books,  and  by  adroit  conversation  induced  her  to  read. 
Sometimes  she  met  at  his  bedside  well-educated  men, 
friends  of  the  professor,  who  had  travelled  in  foreign 
lands,  whose  conversation  revealed  to  her  the  extent  and 
variety  of  the  world  and  of  life,  and  created  in  her  the 
hope  that  change  of  some  sort  and  new  forms  of  happi 
ness  would  soon  be  hers. 

At  home,  resting  her  head  on  her  mother's  knee,  she 


MINA    AND    HER    INDISPENSABLE    FRIEND. 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.  21 

told  with  childish  satisfaction  all  she  had'  heard,  and  de 
scribed  all  the  people  she  had  met.  Her  mother  listened, 
and  though  some  of  the  things  so  new  and  inspiring  to  the 
child  were  old  memories  to  her,  she  never  tired  of  the 
dreamy  talk  or  the  eager  hopes  it  betrayed. 

Sometimes  the  mother  feared  it  might  be  treason  to 
Conrad  to  let  her  aspirations  loose,  and  worse  than  trea 
son  to  train  his  daughter  for  a  life  which  he  could  never 
share.  She  did  not  know  that  he  had  his  reward,  and 
that  he  would  never  feel,  much  less  charge  to  any  one, 
the  defection.  In  fact,  his  life  was  already  revolutionized 
so  completely  that  the  simple  comforts  which  had  form 
erly  satisfied  him  so  that  he  scarcely  had  a  wish  beyond 
them  were  now  merely  distasteful  interruptions  to  the 
continuous  excitement  of  gain.  His  daughter  pleased  and 
interested  him,  but  was  more  a  part  of  his  future  glory 
than  of  his  present  comfort. 

Mina  innocently  compared  herself  with  the  people  who 
lived  immediately  about  her  own  home,  and  with  those 
who  frequented  her  father's  place,  and  wondered  why 
their  poverty  and  degradation  should  be  so  great  while 
her  father's  family  lived  in  ease  and  enjoyed  abundantly 
the  comforts  of  life.  In  a  dim  way  she  felt  that  possibly 
her  father  ought  to  live  elsewhere,  but  never  suspected 
that  they  were  located  by  his  deliberate  choice.  Having 
seen  but  a  single  point  of  the  better  life  outside  of  her 
circle,  and  being  familiar  with  the  scenes  about  her, 
she  did  not  feel  very  sharply,  nor  was  she  moved  to  the 


22  OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

point  of  remonstrance,  but  only  pondered  the  matter. 
Music,  and  occasional  contact  with  the  outside  world  at 
the  Professor's  home,  and  what  she  saw  and  felt  and 
appropriated  at  school,  rather  than  what  she  learned  there, 
had  stimulated  inquiry  and  comparisons,  and  had,  more 
over,  forever  destroyed  that  happy  illusion  that  there  is 
no  place  like  home.  She  had  never  seen  the  homes  of 
the  rich,  and  had  no  clear  conception  of  what  they  might 
be;  but,  seeing  and  feeling  the  charm  of  the  manner  of 
those  she  had  met,  and  noticing  that  they  always  dwelt 
upon  the  pleasures  of  life  rather  than  the  grinding  de 
mands  of  it,  which  was  the  theme  at  her  home,  she  imag 
ined,  poor  thing,  that  they  were  happy  always,  and  that 
their  homes  must  be  not  only  beautiful,  but  scenes  of  con 
tinuous  affection  and  peace. 

Schney  was  doing,  for  want  of  sense,  what  many  others 
do  and  call  it  wise.  He  was  preparing  his  child  to  despise 
him  and  to  pity  her  mother.  It  may  be,  possibly  is,  an 
incalculable  advantage  to  the  State  and  to  the  people  at 
large  to  have  all  the  people  lifted  out  of  ignorance,  but 
the  first  decade  of  universal  education  in  any  land  must 
produce  a  youthful  community  whose  first  assertion  of 
self  and  of  superiority  will  include  shame  at  the  mention 
of  their  parents  and  contempt  for  all  recorded  wisdom. 
A  man  who  despises  his  mother  will  steal.  A  girl  who 
despises  her  father  and  pities  her  mother's  ignorance  may 
be  saved.  But  what  must  be  the  anguish  of  a  mother 
when  she  sees  the  glitter  of  contempt  in  the  eyes  of  her 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.  23 

daughter?  The  people  of  England  have  had  some  ex 
perience  of  life.  They  discourage  rapid  transition  from 
one  condition  in  life  to  a  higher  or  even  better  one.  They 
establish  levels  of  existence  and  populate  them  with  as 
sorted  masses  who  tread  the  level,  father  and  son,  for 
generations  in  peace  and  contentment.  In  rare  cases  ex 
ceptional  qualities  shoot  a  man  or  woman  from  a  lower 
to  a  higher  plane;  sometimes  to  an  eminence.  But  the 
rule  is  life  on  a  level. 

America  has  experimented  for  a  century  with  the  oppo 
site  extreme,  and  has  as  a  result  millions  of  common 
place  people,  who  never  stop  to  ascertain  their  present 
worth,  or  even  to  cleanse  themselves,  but  ask,  with  breath 
less  impatience,  from  day  to  day:  "What  shall  I  be?" 
And  so  the  poor  struggle  and  die;  the  rich  envy  the  great, 
and  are  miserable ;  the  great  are  belittled,  and  rush  out  of 
life  followed  by  shouts  of  derision  and  volumes  of  cal 
umny.  No  man  dares  to  rest  or  be  contented.  The  uni 
versal  demand  is  that  every  man  must  better  his  condition. 
The  man  who  is  in  repose  is  a  burden;  a  contented  man 
an  imbecile.  Men  with  millions  of  money  apply  their 
whole  stock  of  nerve-power  to  the  acquirement  of  more 
money,  and  actually  starve  to  death.  Others  drop  dead — 
suicides.  The  decree  has  gone  forth  that  no  man  shall 
rest.  Contentment  is  branded  as  un-American.  Enter 
prise,  grown  to  monster  size,  feeds  insatiably  on  every 
other  virtue.  He  who  was  once  the  slave  of  his  master 
has  a  nation  of  wild  men  to  drive  him  an'd  scourge  him 


24  OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

with  restless  and  merciless  opinions  out  of  his  lazy  content 
into  a  life  and  a  strife  which  must  fill  him  with  new 
and  strange  suffering,  anid  make  him  soon  the  most 
pathetic  object  on  earth. 

If  men,  who  seem  to  be  the  chief  victims  of  the  new 
civilization,  were  the  only  victims,  Heaven  might  spare 
the  nation;  but  Mina  and  her  mother,  once  the  serene 
girl,  Pauline  Boom,  are  entangled  in  the  life  of  the  hus 
band  and  father,  and  will  not  escape  without  a  burden  of 
memories  which  will  present  themselves  unbidden  and 
mingle  persistently  with  thoughts  entitled  ordinarily  to 
select  company  and  safety  from  intruders.  Unfortunately, 
when  men  and  women  rise  to  exclusiveness  and  bar  the 
door  to  repulsive  and  unwelcome  people,  their  past  lives, 
secreted  within,  ramble  about  the  house  and  grin  and 
chatter,  and  even  step  out  and  join  the  dance  and  play 
familiar  with  the  guests — a  sort  of  licensed  ghosts. 


CHAPTER  III. 
A  SUSPICION. 

SUNDAY  was  Schney's  gala  day.  He  went  "regularly 
to  church  in  the  morning,  and  afterwards  walked 
from  place  to  place  receiving  the  congratulations  and  the 
admiration  of  less  fortunate  people.  He  congratulated 
himself  on  the  shrewdness  he  had  displayed  in  the  selec 
tion  of  a  business,  and  often  wondered  why  more  people 
had  not  followed  his  example.  He  felt  constantly  that 
he  had  made  a  wonderful  escape  from  poverty,  and  that  it 
was  simple  stupidity  and  lack  of  enterprise  on  the  part 
of  others  which  gave  him  the  field.  Consequently  he  was 
careful  to  speak  in  a  rather  depreciatory  manner  of  his 
prospects,  and  quite  modestly,  with  a  humorous  sugges 
tion  to  the  contrary,  of  his  gains.  He  bore  with  him,  as 
it  were,  the  great  secret  of  success. 

Mr.  Schney  was  therefore  greatly  chagrined  when,  on 
stepping  out  one  bright  Sunday  morning,  he  found  both 
the  front  and  side  door  of  his  place  sealed  and  guarded, 
and  the  rear  door  in  charge  of  a  policeman,  who  treated 
his  anxious  inquiries  with  great  indifference.  His  move 
toward  the  door  with  the  intention  of  entering  it  was 
promptly  checked,  and  for  once  in  his  life  he  felt  that  he 
had  suffered  an  indignity.  During  the  day,  by  persistent 
inquiry,  he  gathered  the  facts,  and  finally  went  home. 


26  OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

His  wife  and  daughter,  already  informed  by  the  gossips 
of  the  neighborhood,  had  abandoned  the  house,  leaving  a 
note  to  the  effect  that  they  had  fled  to  the  shelter  of  Pro 
fessor  Snuff's  house.  Schney  was  too  much  alarmed  to 
follow  them,  and  yet  miserable  and  lonely.  He  was  tor 
tured  by  conflicting  desires  to  stay  and  guard  his  premises, 
to  go  and  look  after  his  wife  and  daughter,  and  to  escape 
from  the  fearful  thoughts  which  the  place  engendered. 
The  police,  he  thought  were  unusually  calm  and  indif 
ferent.  He  knew  all  the  facts  as  far  as  ascertained,  and 
fairly  writhed  with  forebodings  sitting  all  alone  in  his 
chamber. 

The  night  before  a  woman,  abandoned  and  forsaken  by 
humanity  in  general,  lay  dying,  attended  by  a  physician 
who  at  this  crisis  was  her  only  friend.  Only  a  man  in 
spired,  as  some  physicians  are,  with  superhuman  pity, 
could  feel  the  awful  misery  of  a  wretch  who  died  and 
could  not  frame  or  imagine  an  apology  for  her  life,  and 
who  accepted  without  remonstrance  the  most  cruel  fate 
Omnipotence  even  could  impose  on  flesh  and  blood. 
Counting  heaven  and  earth,  she  had  two  friends  to  hear 
and  pity  her — the  doctor  on  earth,  and  in  heaven  the 
sinner's  Friend.  These  two  attend  all  who  die,  whether 
king,  emperor,  or  pauper,  and  are  partners.  They  are 
always  in  place  to  be  leaned  upon. 

The  physician  sat  in  the  disordered,  shabby  room 
almost  in  darkness,  gazing  upon  the  poor  disfigured  face, 
and  listening  to  the  muttered  ravings  of  his  patient.  At 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.  27 

last  he  found  that  she  repeated  constantly  and  with  won 
derful  accuracy  of  detail  the  same  story.  With  all  his 
skill  on  the  watch,  with  a  vast  experience  behind  it,  he 
could  not  decide  whether  the  story  was  a  revelation  of 
fact  or  the  mere  phanatasies  of  a  dying  brain.  He  im 
mediately  sent  for  a  magistrate,  who  came  at  once,  bring 
ing  with  him  the  chief  of  police. 

The  trio  concluded  that  the  narrative  was  too  explicit 
and  realistic  to  proceed  from  a  disordered  brain,  and  as 
they  strove  by  questioning  to  extract  every  detail  the 
patient  seemed  to  be  more  and  more  rational.  They  noted 
carefully  the  whole  story. 

The  woman  had  been  a  frequenter  of  Schney's  place, 
and  was  evidently  familiar  with  the  worst  characters  who 
assembled  there.  She  had  witnessed  many  violent  scenes, 
and  had  more  than  once  been  cruelly  beaten  and  thrust 
into  the  street,  more  dead  than  alive.  She  described  min 
utely  the  appearance  of  a  stranger  who  entered  the  place 
at  midnight,  and  asked  for  information  of  a  kind  which 
betrayed  his  ignorance  of  the  city  and  of  the  place  he  had 
entered.  He  was  invited  into  the  back  room  on  some 
pretense,  and  detained  there  by  some  of  Schney's  friends 
until  they  had  a  conference.  Very  soon  he  became  visibly 
uneasy  and  restless,  and  with  an  awkward  apology  rose  to 
go.  At  that  instant  he  received  a  blow  on  the  back  of  his 
head,  and  fell,  without  a  word  or  a  groan,  dead  on  the 
floor.  She  could  not  say  who  struck  the  blow.  The  bar 
was  overturned,  a  pit  dug  under  the  floor,  and  the  body 


28  OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

buried.  Everything  was  arranged  as  before,  and  all  de 
parted,  she  being  warned  that  her  life  depended  on  her 
silence.  Here  the  story  ended. 

The  chief  of  police  hurried  away,  and  by  day-break 
the  ominous  seals  were  on  the  doors  and  the  officers  on 
guard.  Idlers  surrounded  the  house  and  gazed  with  tire 
less  interest  at  the  sealed  doors  and  the  serene  policemen. 
Within  could  be  heard  the  rumble- of  moving  furniture, 
the  ripping  and  splitting  of  planks,  and  steady  strokes  of 
pick  and  shovel.  The  evening  came,  and  darkness,  but 
still  the  work  went  on,  the  gas-jets  within  the  bar  blazing, 
and  the  small  openings  in  the  blinds  allowing  occasional 
glimpses  of  the  workmen  and  partial  views  of  glass  and 
silverware.  One  lewd  picture  stood  out  prominently 
under  the  brilliant  light,  and  mocked,  with  painted  smiles, 
the  ghastly  scene. 

Schney  remained  in  his  room  all  through  the  weary 
day,  and,  despite  the  presence  of  his  boys  and  their  brave 
efforts  to  cheer  and  comfort  him,  felt  that  his  business  was 
ruined.  When  night  came  on  his  fears  increased.  He 
made  determined  efforts  to  exclude  the  horrors  of  the 
day  from  his  thoughts,  and  to  plan  his  future,  but  failed. 
At  last  he  confessed  that  he  was  helpless  and  afraid,  and 
made  his  boys  come  into  his  room,  and]  sleep  there.  In 
the  morning  he  consulted  the  boys  about  everything,  and 
was  happy  when  they  decided  for  him.  He  ate  his  break 
fast  with  some  effort,  and  it  was  plain  he  tasted  nothing. 
Afterwards  he  smoked  and  waited. 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.  29 

About  midday  the  chief  of  police  called  for  Schney, 
and  made  him  happy  in  a  moment.  With  a  cheerful  and 
rather  jovial  air  he  said:  "Well,  Schney,  it  was  all  a  lie. 
The  woman  must  have  been  crazy.  We  dug  a  well,  al 
most,  under  your  place,  and  not  a  bone  or  a  rag  can  we 
find.  Go  down  and  open  your  shop,  and  don't  bother 
about  it  any  more.  You  are  all  right  now,  old  fellow. 
Good-bye!" 

"Good-bye!  I  thank  you  very  much,"  said  Schney. 
"Come  and  have  something?" 

"Not  on  this  particular  occasion,"  said  the  chief,  with 
a  compound  smile,  as  he  turned  and  walked  away,  whist 
ling  softly,  and  absorbed  in  a  matter  not  in  the  remotest 
sense  connected  with  the  events  of  that  day. 

Schney  was  greatly  relieved.  He  expected  to  resume, 
business  at  once,  and,  though  in  a  rather  dejected  way, 
he  commenced  to  re-arrange  his  place  of  business,  but  by 
bed-time  his  courage  had  forsaken  him.  The  absence  of 
his  wife  and  daughter,  and  their  evident  determination 
not  to  return,  depressed  him  and  made  him  astonishingly 
susceptible  to  the  disgraceful  insinuations  and  suspicious 
inquisitiveness  of  the  heartless  wretches  who  were  on  the 
most  familiar  terms  with  him. 

He  closed  his  place  with  a  sense  of  relief,  and  went 
directly  to  consult  his  wife  and  daughter.  His  wife  met 
him  with  passionate  sobs  and  an  affection  free  from  sus 
picion.  Mina  with  one  kiss  extracted  the  pain  from 
his  heart.  He  announced  his  resolve  to  move  his  business 


30  OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

to  a  better  place  and  to  provide  a  home  elsewhere  for  his 
family. 

The  next  day  he  sold  out.  The  papers  all  declared  him 
innocent,  and  deplored  the  strange  conduct  of  the 
dying  woman  and  the  consequent  unjust  suspicion  of 
Schney.  After  a  few  days  the  man  who  was  supposed  to 
be  dead,  and  who  had  been  missing,  reappeared,  explained 
his  absence,  and  joined  the  multitude  who  were  inquiring 
into  the  mysterious  cause  of  the  dying  woman's  statement. 
Schney  once  more  assumed  a  business  air. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

ENTERPRISE. 

A  MAN  relieved  of  a  burden  straightens  himself  and 
immediately  forgets  how  he  groaned  under  the 
load.  Torn  by  force  from  the  old  surroundings  which 
had  seemed  so  securely  fixed,  Schney's  pain  would  have 
been  great  but  for  the  presence  of  awful  fears.  When 
these  were  relieved  he  found  that  he  was  not,  after  all, 
ruined,  and  was  possibly  benefited.  There  was  at  least 
time  to  look  about,  and  a  chance  for  new  ventures,  with 
possibly  greater  success. 

The  return  of  his  wife  and  daughter,  Schney  felt,  was 
a  pre-requisite  to  any  further  plans  for  life,  and  this 
decided  him  to  please  and  astonish  his  wife  by  revealing 
to  her  a  fact  which  he  had  sedulously  kept  from  her 
knowledge. 

"Pauline/'  he  said,  "do  you  remember  the  house  where 
the  people  lived  named  Braxton?  It  is  mine!" 

"Why,  papa,"  exclaimed  his  wife,  "you  are  now  only 
dreaming.  That  fine  yard,  with  trees  and  flowers,  and 
such  a  house,  is  worth  a  fortune." 

"So,"  replied  Conrad,  "but  I  have  it  paid  for  already, 
and  you  and  Mina  must  come  home  to  that  place,  in  which 
is  now  all  the  furniture  and  many  other  things." 

Mina  was  sure  that  all  this  joyful  news  had  been  fore 
shadowed  by  the  hopeful  words  of  her  mother. 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.  33 

The  house  was  once  the  abode  of  a  man  of  means,  who 
had  built  it  with  more  regard  to  comfort  than  show,  but 
had  made  it  beautiful  on  the  interior  with  the  carving 
and  metal  work  of  half  a  century  ago.  It  was  in  its 
day  a  notable  home,  but  had  long  since  been  abandoned 
on  account  of  its  unfortunate  location.  The  neighborhood 
had  fallen  into  bad  repute,  values  had  steadily  declined, 
and  Schney  became  its  owner  for  an  amount  scarcely 
equal  to  the  original  cost  of  the  wood-work  of  the  main 
staircase  and  carved  mantels.  Old  trees  swung  their  huge 
arms  around  the  eaves,  and  as  they  rolled  and  turned  in 
the  wind  seemed  to  wring  their  hands  over  the  changes 
they  had  witnessed.  Flowers  bloomed  in  the  yard  as 
much  out  of  date  as  knee  pants  or  cocked  hats,  their 
names  even  unknown  to  the  modern  passer-by.  Shrub 
bery  grew  in  profusion,  and  gave  forth  strange,  old-fash 
ioned  odors,  which,  drifting  into  the  nostrils  of  any 
decrepit  old  lingerer  in  the  town,  transported  him  at  once 
to  the  gay  scenes  of  his  youth,  and  recalled  the  rosy 
cheeks  of  the  sweetheart  and  wife  mouldered  into  dust  a 
quarter  of  a  century  ago. 

Schney  and  his  family  were  no  sooner  fixed  than  they 
had  the  pleasure  of  enjoying  the  respect  of  the  neighbors, 
which  was  plainly  to  be  seen,  without  feeling  at  all  the 
envy  which  was  concealed.  This  purchase,  and  a  few 
timely  suggestions  from  an  energetic  real  estate  man, 
called  the  attention  of  the  new  owner  to  the  possibilities 
of  judicious  investments  in  that  line,  and  he  resolved  that 


34  OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

in  the  future  he  would  not  allow  a  bargain  to  escape  him 
without  a  reasonable  effort  to  capture  it. 

A  long-neglected  corner,  around  which  a  stream  of 
people  constantly  flowed,  now  became  the  scene  of  action. 
It  was  evident  to  every  observant  man  who  passed  that 
capital  had  seized  upon  the  spot,  and  was  enamored  of  it. 
Brick-masons  knocked  the  front  into  a  pile  of  ruins,  and 
replaced  it  with  the  airy  and  graceful  work  of  the  iron- 
founder  and  glazier;  cunning  workmen  touched  every 
point  on  the  inside  with  skill  and  taste;  fountains  of 
water  gushed  out  wherever  wanted,  and  light  streamed 
over  all ;  birds  sung  in  gilded  cages ;  rare  plants  bloomed 
everywhere,  and  light-hearted  customers  came  and  wenr. 
The  place  was  complete  in  all  its  appointments.  Schney, 
his  features  somewhat  refined  by  responsibility  and 
thought,  more  subdued  in  manner  and  more  dignified, 
presided.  He  was  sober,  indisposed  to  light  conversation, 
attentive  to  every  detail.  He  realized  that  he  was  in  the 
front  rank  of  the  trade.  It  may  not  be  easy  to  account 
for  or  describe,  but  every  one  knows  that  prosperous 
people  soon  possess  a  sort  of  surface  refinement  which  not 
only  affects  their  carriage  with  confidence  and  ease  of 
manner,  but  slowly  and  by  some  mysterious  means  effaces 
physical  blemishes  and  tones  up  the  countenance.  Schney 
was  by  this  time  a  man  of  rather  unassuming  manners, 
quietly  but  richly  dressed — not  unwilling  to  be  considered 
influential,  and  decidedly  interested  in  public  affairs.  His 
friends  were  numerous  and  influential,  and  many  of  them 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.  35 

were  practically  his  property.  Men  once  distinguished 
for  learning  and  ability,  dragged  by  vice  from  their  ex 
alted  positions,  flattered  him  and  patronized  him,  and 
imagined  that  Schney,  overpowered  by  their  dignity  and 
importance,  would  never  press  his  bills.  Schney  under 
stood  the  scheme  perfectly,  and  in  turn  knew  that  the 
unpaid  bills  and  the  slowly  accomplished  familiarity  of 
his  great  customers  would  eventually  yield  him  a  harvest 
amply  remunerative.  His  great  card  in  a  social  way  was 
a  man  of  fine  appearance — once  a  lawyer  of  acknowledged 
ability — called  by  courtesy  "the  Judge,"  but  now  reduced 
by  his  habits  to  poverty  and  mental  wreck.  It  was  a 
queer  sight  to  see  this  pair  of  worthies  fencing.  Each 
imagined  the  other  in  his  power.  One  vain  of  dignities 
long  since  and  forever  passed  away,  and  the  other  sniffing 
the  aroma  of  distant  but  approaching  honors. 

"Well,  Conrad,  how  are  you?"  the  Judge  would  say, 
"How  is  your  good  wife  and  Mina?  Well,  I  hope?" 

"Ah,  Judge,  come  in,  come  in;  have  a  seat,  please, 
and — Charlie!  Bring  some  ice  and  Apollinaris  to  the 
Judge,  quick,  please — what  will  you  have  with  me?  It  is 
my  treat — no.  no,  you  shall  not  pay;  old  friends,  ha,  ha, 
ha !  Quite  well,  all  at  my  house ;  and  Mina !  why,  you 
should  see  that  little  girl.  Take  a  cigar,  and  here  is  a 
light.  So!" 

By  this  time  the  Judge  is  quite  settled.  His  face  wears 
an  expression  as  varied  as  any  landscape.  Benevolent 
condescension,  modest  appreciation  of  the  elegance  and 


36  OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

comfort  of  his  surroundings,  conscious  dignity,  and  slight 
reserve,  all  play  over  his  rather  damaged  countenance. 

"Schney,  you  rascal,"  says  the  Judge,  now  with  a  pain 
ful  effort  to  be  playful,  "you  have  a  fine  place  and  you 
are  doing  well.  I  am  glad  to  see  it — glad  to — see  it.  I 
wish  you  well,  my  man ;  indeed  I  do !  Thank  you,  that 
will  do;  but  a  little  water,  please.  Ah!  ha,  ha,  ahum!" 

"Yes ;  but  I  have  a  large  expense  to  keep  up,  Judge — a 
large  expense.  And  taxes  are  quite  immense  enough  to 
drive  a  man  out  of  such  a  business.  I  am  working  always 
for  the  city  government,"  said  Schney,  "and  have  now 
not  much  saved  by  a  lifetime.  Have  a  light." 

"It  is  true,"  the  Judge  replied,  "our  taxes  are  enormous. 
We  need  good  practical  business  men  in  the  Council. 
You  are  an  intelligent,  wide-awake  man,  and  you  have 
property.  Why  not  run?" 

"Do  you  think  so — that  I  have  some  chance  to  come  in 
with  those  fellows?" 

"By  all  (hie)  means;  why,  certainly,  friend  Conrad. 
I  should  welcome  you  to  public  (hie)  life  with  pleasure; 
why,  yes !" 

Schney  threw  an  admiring  glance  at  the  Judge,  and 
was  about  to  enter  into  a  more  confidential  chat,  when  a 
firm  friend  of  his  came  briskly  in,  exclaiming: 

"Ho !  Conrad,  my  boy,  and  Judge,  I  salute  you !  A 
pocket  full  of  items,  but  still  needy,  gentlemen.  Charlie, 
a  schooner  for  me  and  whiskey  for  the  Judge !  Have  you 
heard  the  latest?  Filter  dropped  dead  an  hour  ago,  and 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.  37 

all  the  pious  snobs  declare  it  was  whiskey  that  killed 
him/' 

"What  nonzens,"  answered  Schney;  "it  must  be  a 
heart  disease,  or  some  such  thing." 

"Why,  certainly,"  said  the  reporter.  "What  kills  the 
pious  people — do  they  live  any  longer?  I  will  have  a 
good  local  to-morrow,  anyway.  I  am  sure  of  that,  at 
least." 

"A  good  liquor  will  not  hurt  a  man,"  said  Schney. 

"And  my  good  friend  here  keeps  no  other.  Gentie- 
men,  good  evening.  Conrad,  my  regards  to  Madame." 
And  so  saying,  Judge  Dragg  walked  slowly  out,  his  gait 
suggesting  the  idea  that  he  wore  rubber  cushions  or 
feather  pillows  under  his  shoes;  a  soft,  slow  step,  be 
traying  uncertainty  as  to  the  exact  moment  when  his  feet 
touched  the  floor;  a  sad,  aimless  movement,  made  all  the 
more  pitiable  by  fragments  of  the  old  dignity  which 
dangled  about  him  like  dead  leaves  awaiting  the  next 
blast  of  winter. 

Next  came  a  troop  of  handsome  boys,  all  the  bravery 
of  evening  dress  hidden  under  huge  spring  overcoats, 
homeward  bound.  Oysters,  beer,  cigars — a  merry  laugh — 
the  ring  of  silver  coin  upon  the  marble  counter — voices 
dying  away  in  the  distance. 

"And  so  Filter  is  dead,"  said  Schney,  approaching  the 
reporter. 

"Yes,  dead  as  the  devil!  You  have  lost  a  customer, 
Conrad." 


38  OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

"Of  course,  yes.  I  am  glad  I  was  always  friendly  to 
him,  Mr.  Bursting,"  said  Schney,  and  added  with  a  pa 
thetic  air,  "I  never  could  refuse  that  poor  fellow  a  drink." 

"He  is  an  independent  man  now,''  dryly  remarked  the 
reporter. 

"How  so?"  said  Schney. 

But  the  reporter  was  too  busy  with  his  notes  to  answer, 
and  Mr.  Schney  slipped  quietly  into  a  big  easy  chair  and 
a  reverie. 

Only  the  scratch  of  the  reporter's  pen,  the  singing  of 
the  gas-jets,  and  the  occasional  snapping  of  the  arc  light, 
until  the  melancholy  tolling  of  a  distant  bell  came  stealing 
softly  in  with  stately  steps,  announcing,  as  though  re 
luctantly,  that  the  record  of  another  day  was  now  com 
plete,  and  illustrating  the  ability  of  a  cracked  station- 
house  bell  and  a  sleepy  policeman  to  produce  very  weird 
effects  when  aided  by  the  necessary  accessories  of  mid 
night  and  an  uneasy  conscience. 

Filter,  coffined,  lay  peacefully  in  his  little  parlor,  while 
a  few  of  his  intimates  kept  a  silent  watch  in  the  adjoining 
room.  Death  was  not  in  their  line,  and  conversation  was 
impossible.  Their  friend  had  indulged  in  a  novelty  which 
they  could  not  appreciate  or  even  discuss  with  any  degree 
of  satisfaction.  He  had  gone  off  on  a  solitary  expedition, 
and  seemed  for  once  to  be  really  indifferent  about  his  old 
chums.  It  seemed  rather  mean  and  awkward,  but  they  all 
agreed  that  they  would  have  to  leave  him  in  the  hands  of 
the  preacher.  Upstairs  the  widow  wrestled  with  alternate 
grief  and  despair.  Schney  thought  of  these  things. 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.  39 

The  reporter  calmly  wrote  up  his  account  of  Filter's 
sudden  death,  and,  feeling  that  he  had  done  a  neat  piece 
of  work,  sprang  from  his  seat  and  gaily  departed.  The 
double-hinged  doors  flapped  restlessly  in  and  out  for  a 
moment  and  then  quietly  closed. 

Schney  walked  thoughtfully  homeward.  The  death  of 
Filter  insisted  upon  having  his  attention.  He  considered 
such  a  death  as  that  rather  undesirable,  and  to  be  avoided 
if  possible.  In  fact,  Mr.  Schney  concluded  that  death  in 
any  form  was  not  a  reasonable  thing,  and  especially  un 
reasonable  and  annoying  to  people  like  himself,  busy  and 
prosperous,  and  willing  and  anxious  to  live.  It  occurred 
to  him  that  possibly,  very  probably,  these  people  who  die 
are  not  so  anxious  to  live  as  they  ought  to  be,  or  perhaps 
they  would  go  on  living  as  he  did.  He  was  unwilling  to 
admit  that  people  would  die  so  constantly  and  with  such 
apparent  ease  unless  they  were  careless  on  the  subject. 
When  the  thought  struck  him  that  possibly  after  all  death 
was  a  compulsory  affair,  and  that  the  time  might  be  fixed 
and  near,  he  sought  to  comfort  and  encourage  himself 
by  resolving  that  he  would  make  it  known  at  once  that 
he  was  for  long  life  and  prosperity.  Filter,  he  decided, 
must  have  been  a  great  fool  to  die  that  way. 

And  so,  the  world  over,  men  who  are  deluged  with 
blessings,  and  guarded  on  all  sides  from  the  countless  ills 
of  the  multitude,  gradually  learn  to  flatter  themselves,  and 
console  themselves  with  the  thought  that  those  who  fall 
into  disgrace  and  death,  or  live  in  humiliation  and  pain, 


40  OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

are  people  more  or  less  indifferent  about  life,  and  very 
careless  about  comfort.  They  walk  serenely  a  flowery 
path,  which  in  their  wisdom  they  have  chosen,  and  won 
der  that  so  many  choose  the  rocky  way  and  death  over 
the  precipice.  They  steadily  and  even  cheerfully  agree 
that  death  may  be  a  great  relief  to  some  people,  and  have 
no  doubt  that  there  is  some  mysterious  charm  in  calamity 
and  in  anguish  which  draws  weak  people  irresistibly.  Pre 
ferring  the  happier  modes  of  life,  they  wisely  shun  dis 
agreeable  things,  and  regret  briefly  and  occasionally  the 
wilful  misery  of  the  people  about  them.  It  annoys  them. 
Sometimes  they  become  indignant  at  its  persistence,  and 
impatient  at  the  thought  that  it  hovers  about  their  path 
way,  casting  shadows  and  uttering  doleful  cries.  As  a 
last  resort  they  harden  their  hearts. 

Schney,  when  he  closed  the  door  of  his  house  behind 
him,  and  thus  shut  out  the  world,  resolved  that  he  would 
as  effectually,  if  possible,  shut  out  of  his  life  every  thought 
of  yielding  to  death.  If  the  choice  of  ease  and  a  firm 
resolve  to  live  would  help  matters  at  all,  then  he  wanted 
it  understood  that  Conrad  Schney  was  no  sentimental 
candidate  for  death,  or  believer  in  the  imaginary  content 
of  poverty  and  obscurity. 


CHAPTER  V. 
A  MUNICIPAL  CAMPAIGN. 

TWO  men,  whose  dress  and  carriage  gave  instant 
proof  of  their  position,  walked  side  by  side,  en 
gaged  in  earnest  conversation.  At  short  intervals  they 
looked  each  other  intently  in  the  face  and  emphasized  their 
words  with  smiles  or  frowns.  Once,  carried  away  by  the 
importance  and  fervor  of  their  talk,  they  halted,  faced 
each  other,  reached  a  satisfactory  understanding,  and  then, 
plunged  in  thought,  resumed  their  walk  in  silence.  They 
were  good  citizens,  agitated  and  distressed  at  the  political 
outlook,  and  resolved  at  any  sacrifice  of  time  and  preju 
dice  to  strike  for  the  welfare  of  the  community.  They 
were  worthy  representatives  of  the  party  in  power,  and 
that  party — the  only  hope  of  the  city — was  in  danger  of 
complete  overthrow.  The  better  element  of  the  city  had  a 
small  and  decreasing  majority,  now  about  to  be  destroyed 
by  the  defection  of  hitherto  loyal  adherents,  who  imagined 
that  their  peculiar  interests  were  about  to  be  sacrificed 
for  victory.  The  varied  interests  of  the  people  were  in 
collision  and  emitting  heat  at  every  point  of  contact.  Con 
ciliation  was  demanded  everywhere.  At  such  a  time  every 
influence  of  sufficient  extent  to  effect  results  must  have 
recognition.  It  matters  not  if  it  is  in  itself  what  is  com 
monly  called  an  evil  influence.  The  question  is  simply 


42  OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

whether  it  carries  with  it  votes,  and  holds  them  in  a  thral 
dom  greater  than  the  party  feeling.  Men  who  represent 
an  interest  are  therefore  to  be  recognized  and  valued,  not 
so  much  with  reference  to  personal  worth  as  to  their  pos 
sible  control  of  others. 

Schney's  house  being  in  the  centre  of  disaffection,  and 
its  owner  a  warm  party  man,  had  been  selected  as  the 
place  for  a  meeting  of  leaders  called  for  the  settlement  of 
vexed  questions  and  the  conciliation  of  those  whose  alarm 
had  turned  to  active  rebellion.  It  was  evident  that  the 
illiterate,  the  poor,  the  foreign  element,  and  the  vicious 
classes  of  the  community  had  by  some  means  been  con 
vinced  that  the  party  of  their  allegiance  was  drifting  away 
from  sympathy  with  them,  and  lending  itself  too  freely 
to  the  advancement  of  those  whom  fortune  had  favored 
already  quite  liberally.  Such  a  condition  of  affairs  called 
for  an  immediate  cure.  The  party  must  be  saved.  Men, 
therefore,  whose  main  reliance  for  support  and  whose 
only  chance  of  aggrandizement  rested  upon  party  life  and 
party  success,  were  ready  to  make  any  concession  which 
would  avert  the  threatened  disaster.  Others,  who  had  no 
political  aspirations,  but  yet  felt  the  necessity  for  party 
success  left  the  matter  in  the  hands  of  the  active  workers, 
and  were  willing  (to  accept  favorable  results  without 
severe  scrutiny  of  the  means  to  the  end.  The  indifference 
of  the  people  disgusted  the  leaders,  and  the  interminable 
turmoil  and  strife  stirred  up  by  the  leaders  exhausted  the 
patience  and  the  interest  of  the  people.  The  liquor  in- 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.  43 

terest  was  on  the  alert,  and  ready  to  strike  down  any 
suspicious  wanderer  about  the  camp.  It  demanded  the 
pass-word  from  all,  and  urged  its  friends  to  decorate 
themselves  with  its  colors  and  bear  themselves  bravely. 
Temperance  men  and  fanatics  denounced  the  liquor  trade, 
and  lovers  of  religious  freedom  defended  it.  Labor  glared 
at  Capita],  and  Capital  buttoned  itself  up  to  the  chin,  and 
with  lofty  strides  and  puffed  cheeks  passed  by  uncon 
scious  of  the  rage  it  had  stirred. 

The  two  men  slowly  making  their  way  to  Schney's 
house  were  alike  only  in  that  they  were  politicians.  Mr. 
Grit  was  a  young  lawyer  with  a  good  practice,  learned  and 
safe,  betraying  energy  in  every  movement.  He  was  quiet, 
cool,  and  quick.  He  believed  in  direct  action  and  success 
at  any  cost.  His  companion  was  a  Mr.  Estimate,  who 
was  gradually  retiring  from  business  and  devoting  more 
and  more  of  his  time  to  public  affairs.  Though  compara 
tively  a  young  man  he  wore  a  solemn  aspect,  walked 
slowly  along  with  bent  head,  and  seemed  either  older  or 
wiser  than  most  men  of  his  age.  He  thought  much  and 
deeply,  was  always  willing  to  hear,  and  could  remain 
silent  without  an  effort.  It  was  pretty  generally  under 
stood  that  Mr.  Estimate  was  a  reliable  man  in  a  public 
emergency,  and  that  when  necessary,  he  could  use  per 
suasion  with  irresistible  effect.  The  two  combined  in  an 
effort,  rendered  success  almost  certain. 

As  they  neared  the  house,  Grit  seemed  to  be  a  little 
reluctant,  and  finally  said : 


44  OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

"See  here,  Estimate,  that  place  is  brilliantly  lighted, 
and  I  see  women  at  the  windows.  My  visit  here  is  strictly 
for  business,  and — " 

"That  is  so,"  replied  Estimate,  "but  we  must  take 
things  as  we  find  them,  and  shape  them  up  afterwards,  if 
we  can.  If  the  new  statesman  is  bent  on  an  entertain 
ment,  we  must  turn  it  to  some  account." 

"Dem  it!"  said  Grit. 

Estimate  would  wade  through  difficulties  and  succeed 
where  his  legal  friend  would  fail.  He  regarded  the  pos 
sibility  of  a-  supper  and  company  as  an  annoyance  which 
demanded  patience,  but,  at  the  same  time,  afforded  a  com 
petent  man  innumerable  opportunities  ,to  advance  his 
cause. 

Our  friends  were  late.  In  the  handsome  parlor  they 
found  an  interesting  circle  of  gentlemen,  representing 
every  creed,  trade,  business,  profession,  and  secret  order 
in  the  city,  each  impressed  with  the  idea  that  he  was  there 
to  play  some  important  part.  Mr.  Estimate,  though  ap 
parently  a  guest,  had  aided  the  host  in  compiling  the  list 
of  invitations.  Schney  introduced  each  comer  to  the  com 
pany,  and  was  unusually  happy  and  proud.  At  length  he 
said,  with  some  embarrassment: 

"'Gentleman,  before  we  go  to  business,  let  us  come  to 
supper  first." 

At  the  words,  the  heavy  doors  rolled  out  of  sight  and 
exposed  to  view  in  an  adjoining  room  of  handsome  di 
mensions  a  long  table  artistically  dressed  and  bearing  a 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.  45 

really  grand  supper.  Mr.  Grit  groaned  inwardly,  and 
cast  anxious  glances  towards  the  outer  door,  as  though 
he  would  gladly  escape,  while  Estimate  swept  the  scene 
with  a  glance  and  braced  himself  for  the  task  before  him. 

The  supper  was  an  example  of  the  skill  of  the  fine  cooks 
at  Schney's  restaurant,  extended  and  elaborated  by  the 
confections  and  taste  of  Monsieur  Pitchin,  a  professional 
caterer,  indispensable  in  fashionable  circles.  Schney's 
bright  mulatto  waiters,  who  had  served  in  years  gone  by 
as  butlers  in  gentlemen's  houses,  now  dressed  in  snowy 
white,  moved  noiselessly  about,  dispensing  the  grand  fare 
and  obeying,  with  graceful  speed,  the  slightest  nod  or 
wink  or  cough  of  the  host.  All  were  captured.  Mina 
had  welcomed  every  guest,  laying  a  soft  hand  in  the  palm 
of  each  one  as  he  entered,  and  shooting  happy  glances 
from  half-closed  eyes  in  every  direction.  When  all  were 
seated,  she  vanished. 

Mr.  Estimate  adroitly  directed  the  conversation  into 
the  desired  channel,  and  Mr.  Grit  helped  him  to  keep  it 
there.  Mr.  Schney  appeared  to  be  simply  drifting  with 
the  current. 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  supper,  an  alderman  of  some 
years'  experience,  proposed  the  health  of  "our  host  and 
worthy  friend,"  to  which  all  responded  heartily,  and  the 
company  returned  to  the  parlor  for  cigars  and  business. 

"Make  yourself  at  home,  gentlemen/'  said  Schney; 
"smoke  as  much  as  you  please  and  do  not  fear — my  wife 
has  given  me  the  house  for  one  night.  I  move,  gentle- 


46  OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-LITIZEN. 

men,  Mr.  Estimate  take  the  chair ;  all  right  ?  all  agreed ; 
very  well.  Mr.  Estimate,  please  take  it." 

On  taking  the  chair,  Mr.  Estimate  said:  "I  am  very 
glad  to  meet  my  friends  here  to  consult  together  for  the 
best  interests  of  our  party  and  of  our  beautiful  city.  I 
am  sure  that  we  all  desire  the  same  thing,  and  that  we 
only  need  to  understand  each  other  in  order  to  have  per 
fect  harmony.  It  is  necessary,  in  order  to  carry  this 
large  and  intelligent  ward  for  our  party,  that  we  should 
have  as  our  standard-bearer  some  well-known  citizen  of 
character  and  influence.  If  we  could  agree  upon  some 
one  here  to-night,  I  think  we  would  take  a  step  in  the 
direction  of  victory !" 

Mr.  Estimate  was  not  accidental  chairman,  nor  was  it 
spontaneous  patriotism  which  brought  Mr.  Grit  to  his 
feet  the  moment  the  chairman  sat  down.  Grit  fearlessly 
denounced  anybody  and  everybody  who  allowed  any  sel 
fish  interest  to  affect  their  party  allegiance  and  closed  with 
the  assurance  that  he  "felt  safe  in  the  use  of  strong 
language  in  the  company  of  men  all  tried  and  true,  and 
ready  t6  sacrifice  anything  save  honor  for  the  triumph 
of  the  grand  principles  for  which  they  were  contending." 
He  wanted,  he  said,  "a  thorough  party  ticket,  with  thor 
ough  party  men  on  it,  so  that  the  great  triumph,  now  al 
most  certain,  might  be  beyond  question,  a  party  triumph." 

Estimate  listened  with  rapt  attention,  so  the  company 
said,  but  was  really  so  near  asleep  that  he  started,  like  a 
man  waking  from  a  trance,  when  Grit  concluded  his  re 
marks. 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.  47 

These  brief  addresses  were  followed  by  some  lively  dis 
cussions,  perfectly  natural  on  the  part  of  those  engaged, 
but  carefully  manipulated  by  a  few  of  the  initiated.  After 
a  moment  of  silence  the  alderman  again  rose  and  said  in 
a  voice  as  musical  and  soft  as  Erin's  harp : 

"Mr.  Charyreman,  I  believe,  upon  my  soul,  I  do,  in 
deed,  that  we  could  not  do  a  wiser,  or  I  might  say,  sor, 
a  more  prudent  thing,  than  to  nommynayte  our  worthy 
friend  who  has  so  handsomely  entertained  us  to-night,  sor, 
in  his  palatial  ho — residence.  Schney,  sor,  and  victory  is 
the  same  thing  identically  in  this  place !" 

There  was  a  soft  clapping  of  hands.  Grit  swallowed 
something  which  seemed  to  be  large,  and  cleared  his 
throat  in  a  manner  almost  equivalent  to  saying  ''damn!" 
and  then  perspired.  Estimate,  with  a  cat-like  glide,  got 
to  Schney  in  an  instant,  took  him  by  the  hand,  and  in 
about  eight,  certainly  not  more  than  ten  or  twelve  words, 
expressed  his  congratulations  and  conviction  that  all 
would  be  well. 

At  the  door  Schney's  carriage  waited  for  the  two 
leaders.  Estimate  glided  in,  and  was  seated  instantly; 
but  Grit  hesitated,  and  would  have  insisted  on  walking 
home,  but  for  the  fact  that  Schney  was  there  to  see  and 
push  him  in.  As  the  vehicle  rolled  away,  Grit  said,  be 
tween  his  teeth:  "Hell!" 

Estimate  asked,  in  a  rather  drowsy  way:  "What  did 
you  remark  ?'' 

"I  say,"  answered  Grit,  "that  we  are  in  a  devil  of  a 


48  OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

mess.  Won't  all  the  temperance  people  stir  around  and 
raise  a  storm  if  we  insist  on  using  Schney  ?" 

"Why  should  they?  They  were  represented  to-night. 
Old  man  Febrile  is  one  of  their  leading  men,  and  Major 
Borax  is  a  paid  lecturer.  They  both  seemed  to  be  sat 
isfied." 

"But  the  preachers,  Estimate,  and  the  church  people. 
How  will  you  hold  them  down?  They  will  see  through 
the  whole  thing,  and " 

"Submit  to  it,"  broke  in  Estimate  with  energy,  straight 
ening  up,  and  getting  really  interested.  "The  churches 
dare  not  go  into  politics.  I  have  thought  over  that  matter 
thoroughly." 

"Can  we  hold  Schney  to  party  measures  after  we  put 
him  in?" 

"We  must  hold  him." 

"How?" 

"By  advancing  him,  by  flattering  his  vanity,  and,  if 
necessary,  by  really  recognizing  and  rewarding  his  influ 
ence.  By  the  way,  you  must  see  that  he  is  properly 
noticed  by  the  press,  and  added  to  our  committee. 

"What?  put  him  on  the  committee?" 

"Why,  certainly;  he  is  irresistible  in  his  ward — that  is 
to  say,  so  long  as  the  better  people  there  keep  their  dis 
gust  for  politics." 

"He  is  a  thoroughly  low  dog,  is  he  not?" 

"Well,  yes,  his  enemies  say  so;  but  think  what  he  has 
accomplished.  Do  you  know  that  his  wealth  is  consid- 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.  49 

erable,  and  that  he  is  a  large  real  estate  owner?  You 
must  admit  that  Schney  is  not  so  bad  as  he  is  painted. 
His  success  must  mean  something." 

Grit  retired,  feeling  dissatisfied  with  himself,  and  in 
spite  of  determined  efforts  to  compose  himself  and  sleep, 
reviewed,  criticised,  approved,  and  disapproved  the  work 
of  the  night,  until  he  felt  as  if  he  was  on  the  verge  of  in 
sanity. 

Estimate  calmly  disrobed,  deliberately  laid  away  each 
garment,  slipped  in  smoothly  between  the  sheets,  adjusted 
his  head,  made  a  slight  change  in  the  position  of  his  weary 
legs,  moved  one  elbow  just  a  little,  and — fell  asleep. 

It  is  only  in  romances  that  the  intriguer  or  the  villain 
tosses  on  a  sleepless  bed.  In  real  life  it  is  the  man  of 
tender  conscience  who  does  the  rolling,  magnifying  in  the 
mysterious  hours  of  night  every  failing  of  the  day  into 
crime,  and  longing  for  the  return  of  another  day  in  which 
to  fight  more  desperately  for  the  attainment  of  his  high 
ideal.  Possibly  the  most  marked  characteristics  of  accom 
plished  rascals  are  composure,  cheerfulness,  and  confi 
dence,  or  utter  indifference.  Virtue,  integrity,  and  fidelity 
furnish  the  world  with  tears  and  guard  the  sleep  of 
criminals. 

The  next  day  the  party  paper  announced  that  "at  a 
meeting  of  some  prominent  citizens  held  last  night  at  the 
residence  of  one  of  the  leading  business  men  of  the  Seven 
teenth  ward,  Mr.  Conrad  Schney  was  urged  to  announce 
himself  for  the  Council,  and  has,  we  are  glad  to  learn, 


5o  OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

consented  to  allow  the  use  of  his  name.  Mr.  Schney  is 
one  of  the  most  successful  merchants  in  that  thriving  por 
tion  of  our  city,  and  is  recognized  as  a  man  of  sterling 
integrity,  tireless  energy,  and  any  amount  of  good  busi 
ness  sense.  We  are  glad  to  know  that  he  is  a  staunch 
party  man,  and  well  deserves  his  good  fortune  as  well  as 
the  hearty  support  of  all  good  citizens." 

During  the  day,  counting  both  private  and  public 
perusals,  Schney  read  the  notice  fifty  times,  and  went  to 
bed  at  last  with  the  beautiful  sentences  at  his  tongue's  end. 

Estimate  and  Grit  laid  aside  law  and  business  on  elec 
tion  day,  and  each  in  his  own  way,  went  to  work  to  keep 
everybody  and  everything  in  smooth  working  order. 
They  knew  well  enough  that  the  decent  people  would 
gladly  spurn  their  candidate,  who  was  simply  a  bait  for 
the  malcontents,  and  that  they  must  be  held  together  by 
the  usual  party  prophecies  that  defeat  meant  ruin.  The 
people  showed  some  disposition  to  meddle,  as  it  is  called, 
with  the  arrangements  which  the  leaders  had  so  labori 
ously  made,  and  were  discussing,  in  their  usual  helpless 
way,  the  candidates  and  the  combinations,  always  con 
cluding  that  they  must  submit  either  to  their  terrible 
enemies  or  the  terrible  candidates  of  their  friends. 

Old  Febrile,  the  temperance  leader,  whose  fortune  con 
sisted  of  large  interests  in  several  lodges  and  circles  which 
had  never  even  proposed  to  pay  any  dividends,  crawled 
around,  giving  his  hands  a  constant  dry  wash,  and  be 
wailing  in  quavering  tones,  the  fearful  demoralization  of 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.  51 

the  day.  Having  nothing  whatever  to  lose,  and  having 
long  since  abandoned  every  hope  of  gain,  he  boldly  and 
truthfully  denounced  the  nomination  of  Schney  as  an  out 
rage  upon  the  community.  Of  course,  nobody  listened 
to  him. 

Major  Borax,  decorated  with  a  large,  rich  ribbon,  the 
brilliancy  of  which  brought  out  quite  effectually  the  shab- 
biness  of  everything  else  he  wore,  stood  in  one  of  the 
largest  precincts,  somewhat  in  the  attitude  of  the  sentinel 
at  the  gate  of  Pompeii,  and  with  an  expression  of  counte 
nance  which  indicated  his  cheerful  purpose  to  snatch 
victory  or  be  buried  in  the  ashes  of  defeat,  and  wait  there 
a  few  centuries  quite  patiently  for  exhumation  and  life  in 
immortal  verse. 

Judge  Dragg  rode  from  point  to  point  in  a  handsome 
carriage,  with  Schney,  Alderman  Howley,  and  the  pros 
pect  of  a  constant  succession  of  drinks,  and  was  appealed 
to  at  every  turn  to  settle  disputed  questions  bearing' on 
the  election  laws.  The  solemnity  with  which  he  delivered 
his  opinions  made  them  as  satisfactory  as  they  were 
worthless. 

Grit  had  but  one  answer  for  all  the  grumblers:  "Vote 
for  the  devil  if  you  find  him  on  our  ticket !  Damn  the 
man  who  don't  vote  or  scratches  his  ticket!"  This  he 
repeated  everywhere  in  a  soft,  low,  but  emphatic  tone. 
When  alone,  and  able  to  think  for  a  moment,'Tie  con 
gratulated  himself  on  the  fact  that,  thanks  to  Estimate's 
good  work,  the  temperance  men  were  voting  the  ticket 


52  OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

straight  in  one  ward  to  beat  the  liquor  interest,  while  the 
money  and  great  influence  of  the  liquor  dealers  were  at 
work  to  carry  another  ward  for  the  party,  with  the  as 
surance  that  victory  meant  security  for  them  and  their 
trade.  Labor  and  Capital  were  shaking  hands  at  the 
polls,  each  satisfied  that  the  other  was  being  completely 
sold  out. 

The  unprincipled  people  of  the  community  were  voting 
to  suit  themselves,  and  generally  for  what  they  considered 
their  interests,  while  the  intelligent  and  worthy  men  of 
the  town,  of  both  parties,  were  voting,  with  hesitation  and 
even  disgust,  the  ticket  prepared  for  them  by  their  respec 
tive  leaders. 

Mr.  Estimate  was  compelled  to  be  on  the  move  all  day. 
He  had  built  up,  by  years  of  careful  work,  a  most 
astonishing  reputation  for  wisdom,  and  had  become  a 
positively  unique  specimen  of  human  nature,  being  re 
garded  as  eminently  friendly  to  every  sort  of  interest 
and  to  all  sorts  of  people,  and  in  some  way  managing  to 
take  an  active  part  on  both  sides  of  every  question  without 
giving  offense.  He  had  a  limit  to  his  benevolence,  how 
ever,  which  was  well  defined.  Anything  whatever  which 
his  party  for  the  time  approved,  he  most  heartily  endorsed, 
while  anything  outside  of  his  party  enclosure  he  de 
nounced  with  measured  solemnity,  in  a  deep  baritone, 
accompanied  by  gestures  painful  to  see.  At  such  a  time 
his  admirers  felt  creeping  sensations  about  the  spine,  and 
sudden  tendency  of  blood  to  the  head,  and  would  say  how 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.  53 

distressing  it  was  to  see  such  an  able  man  rapidly  and 
wilfully  destroying  himself  in  the  service  of  an  ungrateful 
people.  Everybody  consulted  Mr.  Estimate  and  felt 
obliged  to  go  away  greatly  comforted,  except  Deacon 
Impetus,  the  son-in-law  of  Major  Borax.  He  was  evi 
dently  on  bad  terms  with  himself,  and  disposed  to  quarrel 
with  politics.  Meeting  Estimate  in  a  quiet  place,  he  spoke 
out,  saying:  "So  you  are  for  that  vile  man,  Schney!  the 
man  who,  as  Iodine,  my  wife,  says,  is  responsible  for  the 
death  of  poor  Filter,  and  who  knew  more  about  the  mur 
der  in  his  place  than  he  ever  told.  And  still  in  the  trade ! 
I  will  scratch  him,  the  old  brute,  if  we  lose  the  whole 
town." 

Mr.  Estimate  felt  the  force  of  these  remarks,  and  dur 
ing  their  delivery  gave  the  strongest  evidence  of  feeling 
that  he  ever  allowed  himself — went  through  the  motion 
of  choking  with  a  painful  smile  on  his  face.  Having,  as 
it  were,  cut  the  rope  and  let  himself  down,  he  replied : 
"You  forget,  my  brother,  that  there  was  no  murder  after 
all ;  and  that  the  doctor's  certificate  ascribed  Filter's  death 
to  malaria,  and  not  to  liquor,  as  you  were  told.  Mr. 
Schney  keeps  a  restaurant,  it  is  true,  but,  my  dear  sir, 
you  must  not  allow  your  prejudices  to  cause  you  to  over 
look  the  fact  that  Mr.  Schney  is  a  large  property-owner 
and  tax-payer ;  that  he  is  a  public-spirited  citizen,  and  as 
true  as  steel !  Now,  think  a  moment :  My  friend  Schney — 
and  I  am  proud  of  his  friendship — is  a  self-made  man; 
has  been  remarkably  successful  in  business;  has  had  a 


54  OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

large  experience,  and  is  practically  independent.  Besides 
all  that,  he  is  very  popular,  and  of  course,  represents  a 
large  class  in  the  community." 

Deacon  Impetus  shrivelled  and  discolored  under  this 
like  sliced  apples  in  the  sun.  The  poor  fellow  had  only 
one  symptom  of  prominence,  caused  by  his  fondness  for 
church  affairs — his  title  as  deacon.  He  was  so  poor,  and 
had  been  poor  so  long,  that  he  had  abandoned  all  hope 
except  the  one  hope  that  he  might  outlive  the  other  dea 
cons  and  become  senior  deacon.  But  he  had  strong  op 
position.  Having  no  home  on  earth,  he  took  a  premature 
and,  some  wicked  people  thought,  an  exaggerated  interest 
in  his  prospective  home,  and  was  trying  to  be  as  humble 
and  as  honest  and  as  much  of  a  Christian  as  he  possibly 
could  be  without  actually  starving  to  death  or  suffering 
arrest  as  an  imbecile  vagrant. 

Estimate's  warm  defense  of  Schney  scarcely  moved  the 
deacon  until  he  caught  the  words  "success,"  "tax-payer," 
"experience"  and  "independence,"  and  was  made  to  feel 
how  poor  and  shiftless  and  dependent  he  was  himself  as 
compared  with  the  energetic  and  successful  Schney.  He 
flushed  with  shame  as  he  recalled  the  fact  that  he  had 
actually  spoken  of  a  prominent  and  rising  citizen — Mr. 
Estimate's  friend,  too — as  "the  old  brute."  Then  he  be 
gan  to  wonder  what  Mr.  Estimate,  the  wise  and  prudent 
person,  would  think  of  a  poor  man  like  himself,  who  was 
about  to  scratch  a  man  remarkably  successful  and  "as 
true  as  steel!" 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.  55 

Then  he  almost  determined  that  he  would  be  a  man 
at  any  hazard,  and  tell  Estimate  to  his  face  what  a  fraud 
he  was  to  be  advocating  the  election  of  such  a  beast ;  but 
reconsidered  the  matter.  Though  he  had  nothing  to  lose, 
he  wanted  everything  that  goes  to  make  life  endurable, 
and  amongst  other  things  he  needed  friends.  And  so  he 
concluded  that,  sweet  as  it  was  to  denounce  evil  and  evil 
men,  he  must  forego  the  pleasure  rather  than  offend  good 
men  and  able  politicians  like  Mr.  Estimate. 

The  deacon  felt  that  in  casting  a  vote  for  Schney  he 
would  be  giving  the  lie  to  all  his  past  and  to  his  Chris 
tian  profession,  and  that  if  he  scratched  him  he  would 
be  giving  offense  to  men  far  better,  that  is  to  say  more 
prosperous,  more  respected,  and   more  influential   than 
himself.    After  all,  he  concluded,  "I  am  only  a  deacon !" 
So  the  deacon,  flanked  on  one  side  by  a  tender  con 
science,  and  on  the  other  by  a  wholesome  dread  of  pov 
erty  any  deeper  than  that  he  endured,  sneaked  home  with 
out    voting,    and    committed    the    unpardonable    sin    of 
politics.     From  that  day  the  dignities  of  the  diaconate 
lost  their  sweetness  and  he  gradually  pined  away.    It  was 
not  Schney's  grandeur  or  the  insolence  of  his  pretensions, 
or  even  envy,  that  killed  the  deacon,  but  the  inexplicable 
attachment    of    Brother    Estimate    and    other    worthy 
brethren  in  public  life  to  his  candidacy,    In  fact,  the  dea 
con  was  out  of  date,  practically  null  and  void — all  his 
coupons  clipped  and  collected  long  ago.     Being  nothing 
to  the  world  but  an  irritating  evidence  of  debt,  his  Master 
cancelled  him. 


56  OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

A  man  who  has  nothing  to  recommend  him  but  gentle 
ness,  purity,  and  principle,  and  who  is  handicapped  with 
poverty  and  a  tender  conscience,  is  not  in  a  condition  to 
go  about  asserting  himself.  His  study  should  be  modesty 
in  all  its  branches.  Politicians  very  properly  maintain 
that  such  characters  are  a  nuisance  and  an  obstruction, 
and  that  the  foolish  prejudices  which  arise  from  religious 
conviction  and  a  nice  sense  of  propriety,  and  even  the 
idea  that  a  thing  must  be  right  to  be  admissible,  ought  to 
stand  aside  and  let  the  party  managers  illustrate  the  possi 
bilities  of  a  well-conducted  campaign  as  a  great  moral 
agent. 

Some  younger  men,  on  familiar  terms  with  Estimate, 
gave  him  a  few  of  their  opinions  during  the  day  in  a 
frank  and  playful  manner,  which  developed  on  his  counte 
nance  a  series  of  smiles  painful  to  see.  But  Estimate  had 
figured  up  the  result,  and  was  willing  to  wait  a  day  for 
rest  and  reward.  He  knew  that  success  would  secure 
forgetfulness  of  all  the  crooked  work  of  the  day.  Being 
thoroughly  immersed  in  politics,  he  was  as  thoroughly 
convinced  that  it  was  his  duty  to  make  every  little  scruple 
of  over-sensitive  people  give  way,  or,  if  necessary,  to  beat 
down  the  carping  of  innocent  moralists.  He  was  fast 
approaching  a  state  of  mind  in  which  he  would  conclude 
that,  after  all,  the  surest  and  quickest  route  for  the  in 
coming  of  the  millennium  and  the  adjustment  of  the 
world  was  along  the  line  of  intelligent  statesmanship. 
As  he  walked  slowly  along  a  street  recently  opened  and 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.  57 

not  yet  built  up,  he  was  hailed  by  two  brothers  who  had 
voted  and  were  returning  to  their  work — powerfully-built 
fellows,  and  by  trade  stone-masons.  They  were  known 
to  their  friends  and  neighbors  as  "the  Harmony  broth 
ers."  Rubble,  about  thirty-five,  and  Ashler,  twenty-nine 
years  of  age ;  honest,  straightforward  fellows,  rather  con 
fident,  owing  to  their  great  strength,  and  as  independent 
a  pair  as  ever  toiled  for  food  and  raiment.  Rubble  seized 
Estimate  by  his  coat  with  the  gentle  grip  of  a  giant  and 
said,  without  any  introductory  words :  "So  we  are  to 
have  old  Schney  forced  on  us,  are  we,  by  you  managers? 
Not  so  easily,  though,  Mr.  Estimate,  as  you  might  sup 
pose.  Ashler  here  and  I  have  put  in  two  solid  shots  for 
the  other  side.  We  are  with  you  until  you  try  to  ride  us 
with  such  stuff  as  Schney,  but  right  there  we  kick." 

It  was  a  lonesome  place.  Mr.  Estimate's  countenance 
was  better  adapted  to  solemnity  and  a  sort  of  stolid  dig 
nity  than  to  any  light  or  variegated  work,  but  the  cir 
cumstances  and  surroundings  stimulated  him  to  the  pro 
duction  of  a  series  of  pleased  expressions  quite  creditable 
to  one  of  such  limited  ability.  He  really  appeared  to  be 
pleased  with  the  hearty  raillery  of  his  stout  friend,  and 
actually  laughed  in  such  a  way  as  to  almost  say:  "I  half 
agree  with  you,  that  I  do." 

Ashler,  the  younger  and  more  fiery  of  the  two,  added 
with  a  quiet  air,  that  he  didn't  care  a  damn  for  the  party 
or  the  managers,  or  the  candidates,  either,  and  would 
vote  as  he  pleased.  He  wanted,  he  said,  all  the  chances 


58  OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

he  could  get  to  down  such  villains  as  Schney,  and,  for 
that  matter,  the  rascals  who  were  helping  him. 

Mr.  Estimate  laughed  a  gentle  approval  of  these  re 
marks,  and,  thanking  them  for  their  deep  interest  in  the 
election,  departed,  touching  his  hat  and  saying:  "Gentle 
men,  I  am  glad  to  have  met  you — like  to  have  sugges 
tions — glad  to  meet  my  friends ;  ah,  good  day,  good  day ; 
ha,  ah,  ha !" 

At  the  next  corner  the  pair  encountered  Mr.  Grit,  who 
engaged  them  in  conversation,  and  soon,  in  a  thoughtless 
moment,  let  slip  the  remark  about  the  devil  and  scratching 
which  had  served  him  so  well  during  the  day.  It  proved 
to  be  injudicious,  inasmuch  as  it  aroused  the  indignation 
of  the  younger  Harmony,  who  struck  him  a  blow  which 
was  wonderful  in  that  it  was  not  instantly  fatal.  Grit 
sustained  his  remarks  with  all  the  strength  at  his  com 
mand,  but,  of  course,  was  soon  a  wreck.  He  managed 
to  get  to  the  meeting  that  night,  but  the  false  proportions 
of  his  head  and  the  overdone  shadows  of  his  countenance, 
added  to  the  languor  of  his  movements,  made  him  scarcely 
recognizable.  Mr.  Estimate  was  really  distressed  when 
he  saw  him. 

Judge  Dragg,  Alderman  Howley,  Mr.  Estimate,  old 
man  Febrile,  and  many  other  leading  citizens,  were  there, 
laboring  under  intense  excitement,  a  heavy  supper,  and  in 
numerable  drinks.  It  was  soon  evident  from  the  returns 
that  Schney  had  been  elected  by  a  handsome  majority. 
Mr.  Estimate  seized  the  occasion  to  speak  of  Mr.  Schney 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.  59 

as  the  man  who  "had,  by  the  liberal  expenditure  of  his 
energy,  time,  and  money,  and  by  the  application  of  his 
splendid  abilities,  done  more  than  probably  any  other  one 
man  to  save  the  city  from  ruin;  that  he  deserved  the 
thanks  of  the  whole  community,  and  especially  of  those 
who  had  been  by  necessity  in  the  midst  of  the  fray/'  Next 
morning  the  papers  printed  these  remarks  under  the 
head :  "Mr.  Estimate  Speaks  For  Us  All !" 

Later  in  the  evening  Mr.  Schney  himself  arrived  at 
headquarters,  bringing  the  very  latest  intelligence  from 
his  ward,  and  the  modesty  and  delicacy  with  which  lie 
referred  to  his  own  success  gave  indisputable  evidence  of 
his  capacity  and  willingness  to  learn  when  he  had  a 
chance. 

It  seems  to  be  a  rule  of  fate  or  a  law  of  nature  to 
soften  every  triumph  of  man  by  the  prompt  introduction 
of  a  tragedy.  Or,  perhaps,  fate  is  artistic  and  blends  light 
and  shade,  or  heightens  joys  by  a  dash  of  pathos,  merely 
to  indulge  a  pretty  fancy  or  try  new  effects.  Or,  it  may 
be,  fate  is  a  grim  humorist,  who  distorts  life  into  a  cari 
cature,  and  retires  to  laugh.  Be  that  as  it  may,  however, 
in  the  midst  of  general  rejoicing  and  hilarity  Judge  Dragg 
became  unaccountably  silent.  When  playfully  chided  for 
his  very  unusual  lack  of  interest,  he  made  no  response, 
but  gazed  fixedly  and  appealingly  into  the  faces  of  those 
about  him.  Some  one  noticing  the  pallor  of  his  face,  and 
supposing  he  had  fainted,  offered  him  a  flask.  He  did 
not  make  the  slightest  motion  to  receive  it,  or  even  turn 


60  OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

his  eyes  wistfully  towards  it.  At  this  every  one  became 
alarmed;  those  who  looked  at  him  from  one  side  were 
struck  with  the  awful  solemnity  of  his  face,  while  others, 
viewing  him  from  the  opposite  side,  thought  they  de 
tected  a  smile.  To  many  questions  he  answered  nothing. 
Febrile,  who  had  seen  hundreds  of  sick  and  dying  people, 
seized  the  left  hand  of  the  Judge,  raised  it  to  the  level  of 
his  head  and  released  it.  It  fell  like  a  clod  to  his  side. 

"Paralysis,"  said  Febrile. 

In  a  few  minutes  a  physician  appeared,  and  ordered  the 
instant  removal  of  the  patient  to  his  home.  As  the  doc 
tor  passed  out  he  said  to  Grit,  who  had  questioned  him, 
"Oh,  yes,  deterioration  of  the  tissues — blood-vessel  given 
away — free  effusion  on  the  brain.  Progressive,  and  nec 
essarily  fatal.  No  hope.  Bye-bye!" 

Febrile  and  Borax  renewed  their  pledges  to  each  other, 
and  determined  to  say  something  impressive  at  the  next 
meeting  of  the  "Cool  Spring  Division."  All  things  con 
sidered,  they  got  home  with  remarkable  ease  and  precision. 

Mr.  Schney  walked  home  with  his  triumph  badly  hob 
bled  by  the  untimely  and  ghastly  conduct  of  his  friend 
the  Judge,  and  with  occasional  thoughts  of  the  unreason 
able  death  of  Filter. 


CHAPTER  VI. 
A  PUBLIC  SLAVE. 

FOR  a  few  days  Schney  carried  himself  with  a  sort 
of  suppressed  pride.  A  close  observer  might  have 
detected  scintillations  of  vanity  sweeping  over  and  illum 
inating  the  general  air  of  modesty  which  he  was  culti 
vating  for  public  effect.  Occasionally  his  pride  got  the 
ascendancy,  and  his  gait  became  suggestive  of  too  much 
strain  between  the  crupper  and  the  kimbal  jack  of  his 
physical  organization.  At  home,  exhausted  by  the  strain 
of  carrying  himself  well,  he  relaxed  into  comfort.  As  he 
settled  himself  for  the  first  time  in  the  arm-chair  provided 
for  him  in  the  Council  chamber,  the  same  struggle  might 
be  observed  expressing  itself  in  more  subtle  and  inter 
esting  forms.  The  beautiful  and  almost  pathetic  weari 
ness  with  which,  after  a  day  of  private  anxieties,  he 
assumed  the  burden  of  public  cares,  could  not  fail  to 
impress  the  intelligent  observer ;  and  after  he  was  seated 
it  was  positively  painful  to  see  with  what  patient  fortitude 
he  listened  to  the  unimportant  details  of  the  familiar 
routine. 

There  is  nothing  more  distressing  to  a  benevolent  mind 
than  to  observe  the  steady  accumulation  of  cares  which 
comes  to  all  men  who  are  so  unfortunate  as  to  be  torn 
from  the  composure  and  serenity  of  private  life,  and 


62  OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

forced,  by  the  exacting  demands  of  public  necessity,  into 
positions  of  responsibility  and  labor — to  be  raised,  as  it 
were,  to  a  dreary,  solitary  eminence,  and  there  overlook 
the  struggles  and  agonies  of  the  surging  masses  of  hu 
manity. 

Surely  nothing  but  a  just  appreciation  of  the  sacrifices 
he  had  already  made,  and  a  clear  conception  of  the  bur 
dens  which  must  in  the  future  be  laid  upon  him,  coufld 
have  converted  the  heretofore  cheerful  and  hopeful  Schney 
into  the  man  he  now  seemed  to  be.  It  was  evident  that 
during  the  short  time  he  had  occupied  his  seat  he  had  im 
bibed  an  amount  of  information  concerning  the  complex 
interests  of  government  sufficient  to  be  a  burden  to  him, 
and  to  cause  him  to  be  amazed  that  so  many  people  man 
aged  to  live  and  be  so  ignorant  and  so  indifferent  to  the 
tremendous  issues  which  he  was  now  compelled  con 
stantly  to  consider. 

At  times  he  was  startled  by  the  thought  that  but  for 
the  self-sacrificing  labors  of  himself  and  his  associates, 
and  their  wise  and  patient  care,  a  whole  community — 
virtuous  and  innocent,  but  helpless  and  careless — might 
fall  into  irremediable  ruin. 

It  is  thus  that  Providence,  seeing  that  the  children  of 
men  are  wilful  and  prone  to  neglect  the  great  concerns  of 
life,  raises  up,  in  due  time,  men  of  a  sterner  mould  and  of 
finer  intuition  than  their  fellows  to  be  the  leaders  and 
guardians  of  helpless  thousands.  Schney  often  pon 
dered  the  mystery  of  his  rapid  promotion,  and  sighed 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.  63 

when  he  was  compelled  to  admit  to  himself  that  it  could 
be  explained  only  on  the  presumption  that  he  was  sadly 
needed  in  the  councils  of  the  people.  He  saw  that  he  was 
doomed  to  a  life  of  servitude,  and,  with  a  courage  com 
mensurate  with  the  solemnity  of  his  convictions,  resolved 
to  accept  the  manifest  leadings  of  Providence. 

This  resolve,  firmly  made,  restored  almost  instantly 
the  light-hearted  and  hopeful  temper  of  the  new  friend  of 
the  people,  and  removed  at  once  all  danger  of  his  retire 
ment  and  its  fearful  consequences. 

Estimate,  now  chairman  of  the  local  committee,  and 
Grit,  his  adviser,  took  a  rather  different  view  of  the  causes 
of  Schney's  election,  and  had  mapped  out  his  future  to 
their  own  satisfaction.  They  had  failed  to  take  into 
consideration,  however,  the  fact  that  a  man  once  raised 
to  a  position  out  of  all  proportion  to  his  ability  and 
character,  rapidly  convinces  himself  that  he  is  fully  equal 
to  it  and  finally  aspires  to  greater  heights.  They  did  not 
weigh  the  yet  stranger  fact  that  the  man  actually  takes  on 
some  elevation,  by  reason  of  new  opportunities,  and 
finally  approaches  a  development  which,  in  appearance 
at  least,  fits  him  for  honors  which  at  first  only  exposed 
his  incapacity;  and  this  without  any  necessary  improve 
ment  in  that  part  of  the  man  which  the  world  calls  his 
character,  and  by  which  he  must  finally  be  estimated. 
And  so  the  man  base  by  nature,  forced  by  fortuitous 
events  or  elevated  by  careless  voters  into  a  high  position, 
not  only  defiles  the  place  of  dignity,  but  from  it  steps  to 


64  OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

yet  higher  places,  from  which  he  serenely  views  the 
labors  and  unrewarded  toil  of  his  fellow-men.  To  rise 
above  those  that  surround  him,  to  be  sought  for  and 
pleaded  with  and  to  dispense  authority — these  are  the 
impulses  which  move  the  man  emerging  from  obscurity. 
Though  Schney  had  been  elected  partly  to  satisfy  the 
business  interests,  which  he,  to  a  certain  extent,  repre 
sented,  he  was  yet  more  distinctly  understood  to  represent 
the  masses,  including  the  poor  and  the  ignorant;  but  in 
this  capacity  he  was  a  failure,  because  he  had  never  been 
in  any  true  sense,  a  poor  man,  and  had  no  feeling  for  the 
pains  of  poverty.  When  he  was  himself  a  common  la 
borer,  his  sensibilities  being  undeveloped,  he  escaped  by 
indifference  the  most  bitter  portion  of  the  poor.  It  was 
his  insensibility  to  the  awful  squalor  at  his  home  which 
enabled  him,  by  saving  in  coin  the  comforts  due  his 
family,  to  collect  his  first  means,  and  his  heartless  cruelty 
and  selfishness  which  made  it  possible  for  him  to  keep 
his  material  interests  in  advance  of  his  mental  and  moral 
improvement.  When  poor  he  did  not,  could  not,  feel  it; 
and  by  the  time  his  susceptibility  to  pain  was  developed 
he  had  left  and  had  forgotten  the  land  of  dependence  and 
fear  and  foreboding.  The  poor  cannot  be  considered, 
with  any  justice,  as  a  mass  of  level  people.  They  are 
sub-divided,  as  other  classes  are,  into  sufferers  and  great 
sufferers.  Some  of  them,  possibly,  never  feel  anything 
sharper  than  mere  physical  pain,  while  others  know  the 
poignancy  of  those  inner  pains  which  we  try  to  sum- 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.  65 

marize  in  the  word  anguish.  In  the  great  mass  of  'the 
poor  whom  the  new  or  modern  statesman  tries  to  repre 
sent,  are  many  who  have  quietly  fallen  from  affluence 
into  an  obscure  comfort,  which  asks  no  help  in  material 
things,  but  craves  a  return  of  old  associations,  old  friends, 
and  old  surroundings. 

Others,  descended,  remotely  it  may  be,  from  an  ances 
try  of  noble  qualities,  who  for  centuries  perhaps  enjoyed 
all  the  rare  culture  which  wealth  and  rank  combined  can 
confer,  feel  a  mysterious  and  irrepressible  desire  to  escape 
from  a  life  which  does  not  satisfy,  and  find  if  possible 
that  which  their  natures  crave. 

And  others  still,  conscious  of  powers  or  of  gifts  which 
have  not  been  discovered,  or  which  the  world  refuses  to 
recognize  in  such  shabby  attire,  groan  within  themselves 
as  they  view  the  ready  recognition  of  insolent  sham 
clothed  in  the  elegance  of  questionable  prosperity. 

If  the  great  problem  were  simply  how  to  supply  the 
demand  for  food,  raiment,  and  shelter,  the  world  would 
scon  solve  it  and  poverty  would  vanish  before  the  abund 
ance  which  benevolence  would  supply ;  but  the  want  which 
presses  itself  upon  the  notice  of  the  world,  and  which  de 
mands  relief,  is  the  cry  of  the  people  for  the  recognition 
of  the  best  qualities  of  humanity  and  for  protection  from 
the  ever  increasing  insolence  and  tyranny  which  results 
from  the  elevation  of  vice,  incapacity,  and  vanity  to  place 
and  power.  Thousands  who  are  self-contained,  who  have 
not  the  remotest  desire  for  the  fictitious  elevation  of  politi- 


66  OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

cal  life,  and  are  therefore  not  ooen  to  the  charge  of  en 
vious  disparagement,  are  compelled  to  submit  to  the  rule 
of  men  who  have  long  ceased  to  be  representative,  and 
are  simply  politicians  by  trade  and  the  partners  of  other 
politicians.  Their  business  is  to  sustain  each  other,  and 
their  capital  consists  of  a  great  mass  of  voters  swayed  by 
constant  appeals  to  hopes  and  fears  previously  implanted 
for  that  very  use. 

The  official  position  of  Schney  compelled  men  infinitely 
superior  in  every  sense  to  approach  him  deferentially,  pre 
senting  their  requests  and  pretending  to  hear  his  views 
with  great  interest  and  humble  approbation.  In  propor 
tion  to  their  respectability  and  worth  Schney's  importance 
increased.  He  actually  began  to  believe  that  he  was  neces 
sary  to  these  proud  but  helpless  people,  and  that  they 
were  reluctantly  consenting  by  their  appeals  to  his  wis 
dom  and  ability.  While  he  consoled  himself  with  this 
pleasant  idea,  vainly  trying  at  the  same  time  to  grasp  the 
meaning  of  the  varied  schemes  presented  to  him,  the 
simple-minded  citizens  laughed  at  his  stupid  pomposity 
and  quietly  arranged  to  capture  his  vote. 

And  so,  gradually  enlarged  by  a  vanity  which  fed  on 
delusions,  Mr,  Schney  drifted  away  from  many  who  were 
ignorant  enough  to  honestly  admire  him  and  became  the 
associate  of  others  who  flattered,  used,  and  despised  him. 
He  rapidly  lost  all  interest  in  the  poor  and  struggling 
classes,  who  had  pushed  him  out  of  obscurity  with  their 
votes,  and  when  appealed  to  in  their  behalf,  only  advised 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.  67 

them  to  emulate  his  example  and  rise.  He  was  already 
convinced,  as  many  another  prosperous  fellow  before  him 
has  been,  that  he  had  raised  himself  by  his  own  energy 
and  industry,  and  that  his  old  friends  still  left  in  the  mire 
of  poverty  were  shiftless  and  worthless,  and  therefore 
poor.  He  readily  excused  his  attitude  of  superiority  on 
the  very  reasonable  ground  that  he  was  a  superior  man, 
and  that  he  had  demonstrated  the  fact.  He  was  not  alone 
in  this  conclusion,  for  thousands  of  really  worthy  men, 
made  limp  and  hopeless  by  years  of  honest  struggle 
against  poverty,  abandoned  practically  all  faith  in  Provi 
dence  and  in  virtue  and  made  their  obeisance  in  due  time 
to  the  prosperous  criminal.  Good  and  brave  men  began 
to  discover  that  it  was  useless  to  denounce  a  man  so 
solid  financially  and  so  well  supported  by  his  political 
allies,  and  learned  to  their  sorrow  that  persistence  would 
result  in  nothing  but  their  own  serious  hurt. 

And  yet  it  is  said  we  are  a  kingless  people.  Perhaps 
a  man  might  bend  low  before  a  sovereign  crowned  and 
enthroned, »and  yet  not  so  profoundly  bow  as  when  before 
these  monstrous  accidents  he  pleads  for  right  or  seeks 
redress  for  wrong. 

A  hundred  years  of  liberty,  perfect  as  a  dream  wjien 
compared  with  any  sovereign's  reign,  has  given  the  cities 
of  America  to  thieves  and  whiskey,  commonwealths  to 
aliens  and  strangers,  and  the  President's  chair  to  the 
highest  bidder.  And  the  great  mystery  which  rolls  un 
solved  over  a  continent  is  the  fact  that  a  free,  prosperous, 


68  OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

and  enlightened  people,  despising  the  royal  prerogative, 
and  amused  at  the  superstition  of  the  divine  right  of 
kings,  puts  slaves  of  unknown  ancestry  in  ruler's  chairs 
and  bows  to  the  decrees  of  unlettered  mobs. 

At  the  end  of  one  term  this  man,  once  so  humble,  was 
convinced  that  he  possessed  qualities  which  entitled  him 
to  recognition  as  a  man  of  affairs,  especially  fitted  for  the 
work  of  guiding  and  governing  the  helpless  respectability 
and  aimless  morality  of  the  city.  He  sincerely  pitied  the 
numberless  men  about  him  who  were  deluding  them 
selves  with  the  idea  that  their  characters  alone  entitled 
them  to  respect.  He  was  utterly  unable  to  understand 
why  men  who  had  never  been  in  the  Council,  who  had  no 
property  and  no  such  business  ability  as  he  had,  and  no 
influence  in  ward  politics,  should  go  about  acting  as  if 
they  were  really  good  citizens  and  even  treating  him  with 
amused  indifference.  In  fact,  Mr.  Schney  secretly  en 
tertained  the  belief  that  he  was  far  more  patriotic  and 
decidedly  more  American  than  the  quiet  natives  of  the 
city,  who  seemed,  he  thought,  to  have  grown  weary  of 
citizenship  and  all  its  glories. 

This  thought  inspired  him  to  hope  that  a  man  as  re 
solved  as  he  was  to  rise  in  public  life  might  greatly  bene 
fit  himself  and  at  the  same  time  stir  the  dull  indifference 
of  the  old  inhabitants  sufficiently  to  make  them  feel  some 
interest  in  their  country.  Mr.  Schney  began  to  see  that 
the  most  intelligent  man  in  the  community,  if  he  had  never 
been  in  the  Council,  really  needed  the  watchcare  of  men 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.  69 

like  himself.  It  shocked  him  to  think  how  many  people 
there  were  who  really  did  not  know  all  the  things  he  had 
learned.  He  felt  that  he  was  at  last  and  forever  separated 
from  the  great  and  level  mass  of  unknown  people. 

In  his  new  place  of  business  Mr.  Schney  met,  as  he 
supposed,  the  very  best  people  of  the  city,  many  of  them 
his  warm  friends,  and  many  others  whose  habits  com 
pelled  them  to  meet  him  on  terms  of  social  equality  or 
else,  refusing,  condemn  themselves.  Frequenters  of  bars 
cannot  justly  claim  superiority  to  the  proprietor.  An 
honest  man  cannot  despise  another  who  ministers  to  his 
pleasure  or  to  any  habit  of  his,  however  base,  and  retain 
his  respect  for  himself.  A  man's  customers  are  his 
friends  or  his  slaves. 

Mr.  Schney  widened  his  circle  of  friends  and  extended 
his  influence  when  he  became  himself  a  valuable  customer. 
The  wholesale  men  saw  some  fine  traits  in  him.  They 
found  him  a  prompt  and  cheerful  payer,  an  energetic, 
pushing  man ;  anything  which  secured  a  place  at  his  bar 
and  his  endorsement  had  an  immediate  and  constant  de 
mand.  But  these  things,  important  as  they  might  seem, 
were  as  nothing  compared  with  the  fact  that  he  was  one 
man  whose  faith  in  the  perfect  innocence  of  the  business 
never  wavered.  This  beautiful  confidence  was  apparent 
at  all  times,  and  made  his  presence  in  the  office  of  a 
gloomy  self-accusing  dealer  a  benison.  While  he  lingered, 
chatting  and  chuckling,  evil  forebodings  could  not  press 
with  their  usual  weight. 


70  OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

It  is  worth  something  to  have  a  friend  near  who  will 
tell  us  that  our  fears  are  childish  and  our  crimes  only 
ugly  dreams. 

Danger,  and  even  death,  may  be  met  with  some  com 
posure  if  a  brave  companion  grasps  our  hand  and  looks 
with  fearless  eyes  upon  that  which  made  us  tremble  and 
choke  with  fright.  A  conscience  void  of  offense  may 
bring  easement  where  any  other  messenger  could  not 
come.  Schney  was  a  good  comrade  of  the  wholesale 
dealers  and,  like  a  good  soldier,  occupied  the  exposed  out 
post  while  they  revelled  in  the  fortified  respectability  of 
the  main  line,  sending,  as  the  service  required,  all  neces 
sary  supplies  and  words  of  cheer  to  the  front. 

With  an  ever-widening  circle  of  friends,  a  growing  in 
fluence,  and  increasing  wealth,  Schney  was  drifting  into 
importance.  People  who  thought  they  despised  him,  be 
gan  to  discover  that  it  was  scarcely  reasonable  to  do  so 
any  longer.  In  fact,  they  found  it  exceedingly  difficult 
to  hold  on  to  their  honest  convictions  concerning  the  man. 
How  was  it  possible,  they  reasoned,  to  reconcile  thdir 
opinions  and  his  wonderful  success  and  popularity.  Many 
who  had  innocently  imagined  themselves  far  more  worthy 
of  the  respect  and  confidence  of  the  community,  found  it 
necessary  to  retire  into  silence  and  to  assume  modest  atti 
tudes  when  the  prosperous  and  rising  Schney,  the  valu 
able  and  enterprising  citizen,  was  mentioned.  He  was 
successful;  failures  would  please  be  humble.  The  com 
ments  of  the  general  public,  and  especially  of  the  politi- 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.  71 

cians,  being  always  apologetic  and  frequently  laudatory,  it 
was  considered  in  bad  taste,  and  even  an  evidence  of  a 
sour,  misanthropic,  or  fanatical  disposition,  to  speak  the 
truth  about  the  man.  He  was  entrenched  behind  his  prop 
erty  and  his  strange  hold  upon  the  most  unmanageable 
portion  of  the  voting  population.  Thousands  who  would 
have  been  glad  to  see  him  returned  to  appropriate  ob 
scurity,  began  to  fear  that  he  was  already  master  of  tne 
situation. 

It  is  a  strange  fact,  and  a  fact  which  may  yet  be  made 
to  throw  some  light  upon  practical  politics,  that  the  bar 
rooms  and  liquor  interests  of  nearly  all,  if  not  all,  the 
large  cities  of  this  country  exert  more  influence  in  deter 
mining  nominations  and  elections  than  all  the  churches  of 
all  the  denominations  combined.  It  would  be  extremely 
interesting  to  inquire,  also,  why  it  should  be  true,  if  it  is 
true,  that  a  well-established  reputation  for  piety  is  quite 
as  damaging,  if  not  really  more  fatal,  to  a  man's  political 
ambition  than  acknowledged  and  chronic  immorality.  It 
is  astonishing  what  a  load  of  crookedness  and  debauchery 
can  be  overlooked  in  an  available  candidate,  and  how  ex 
tremely  difficult  it  is  to  secure  any  extra  consideration 
for  unquestioned  Christian  virtues.  It  seems  that  the 
professional  politician  either  must  go  down  or  prefers  to 
go.  The  danger  of  any  admixture  of  politics  and  religion 
is  doubly  guarded  by  the  fact  that  religion  would  be  al 
most  as  fatal  to  politics  as  politics  would  be  to  religion. 
The  politician  and  the  preacher  are  agreed.  The  shepherd 


72  OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

and  the  goatherd  combine  their  strength  to  build  the  wall 
which  separates  their  flocks,  and  together  patrol  the  neu 
tral  ground. 

As  the  time  drew  near,  preparations  were  made  for 
another  election.  Estimate  and  his  political  associates, 
including,  of  course,  Lawyer  Grit,  made  a  careful  survey 
of  the  field,  and  concluded  that  they  were  now  in  a  con 
dition  to  do  without  the  influence  of  the  powerful  repre 
sentative  of  the  Seventeenth  ward. 

"It  is  time  to  let  old  Schney  down,"  said  Grit. 

"Yes,"  replied  Estimate ;  "he  would  not  help  our  cause 
this  time.  We  are  pretty  well  harmonized  now,  and  he 
would  be  too  pronounced — might  create  the  idea  that  he 
represented  something  and  stir  up  opposition." 

"The  State  election  is  on  us  in  the  fall,"  added  Grit,  "and 
we  must  be  careful  to  hide  away  all  our  'specialties'  and 
show  staple  goods  only." 

Mr.  Estimate  thought  over  this,  or  something  else,  for 
a  moment  or  two,  and  finally  said,  with  a  far  away, 
dreamy  look,  and  in  a  tone  about  as  musical  as  the  raps 
of  a  cobbler's  hammer,  "I — ah — yes,  I  agree  with  you." 

Mr.  Schney  was  therefore  quietly  dropped  from  the 
Council.  Not  because  unfit  to  be  there,  or  because  he 
desired  it,  or  because  his  constituents  desired  it,  but  be 
cause  the  policy  of  the  little  band  of  devoted  citizens 
called  "the  leaders"  and  the  interests  of  the  party  de 
manded  it.  The  same  hands  which  had  crowned  him  were 
about  to  push  him  under  the  knife  and,  when  the  work 
was  done,  hold  up  his  ugly  head  that  all  might  see. 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.  73 

Mr.  Schney  seemed  to  submit,  and  expressed  himself 
as  if  wounded  rather  than  angry ;  a  faithful  and  loyal  man, 
sadly  maltreated,  but  resolved  to  exhibit  to  the  world  a 
most  unusual  and  admirable  case  of  good  behavior  under 
galling  and  mysterious  wrong.  Of  course,  a  man  like 
him,  conscious  of  his  great  usefulness,  and  made  ac 
quainted  with  his  abilities  by  a  brief  opportunity  to  use 
them,  could  not  fathom  the  conduct  of  his  treacherous 
associates. 

In  thus  retiring  for  a  while  from  the  distressing  re 
sponsibilities  and  the  unsought  honors  of  public  life,  Mr. 
Schney  was  not  without  some  very  considerable  consola 
tion.  Many  people  who  had  never  heard  of  him  until 
his  appearance  in  the  Council,  now  not  only  knew  him, 
but  knew  him  as  a  far  more  important  individual  than  he 
really  was.  The  mere  fact  that  he  had  been  in  the  Coun 
cil  in  some  way  added  to  his  importance,  although  it  was 
well  known  that  his  election  was  a  mere  makeshift,  and 
his  presence  there  utterly  useless.  Others,  who  knew 
nothing  of  his  character,  thought  of  him  as  a  man  who 
could  have  pavements  laid  by  the  mile,  innumerable  gas- 
lamps  set  up,  or  parks  opened  and  improved  by  a  word  or 
a  nod.  Others  still  imagined  that  he  was  a  master  of  the 
art  of  finance,  and  that  city  bonds  would  never  sell  as 
well  again  as  they  did  when  he  directed,  with  silent  wis 
dom,  their  issue  and  redemption.  Even  the  shrewdest 
and  most  intelligent  people  had  imbibed  the  idea  that, 
notwithstanding  his  utter  lack  of  the  most  ordinary 


74 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 


ability  and  the  commonest  attainments,  he  yet  had  that 
very  desirable  but  intangible  thing  called  influence.  In 
fact,  Schney's  brief  possession  of  power  and  his  flagrant 
prosperity  had  blinded  the  intelligence  of  a  whole  com 
munity.  All  of  this  pleased  Schney,  who  was  still  the 
same  stupid  fellow,  and  forced  him  to  the  conclusion  that 
he  was  a  truly  wonderful  specimen  of  a  self-made  man. 

Mrs.  Schney  was  the  envy  of 
all  her  poor  neighbors.  Her  kind 
ness  and  charity,  her  amiability, 
her  almost  apologetic  manner — 
nothing  could  atone  for  her  pros 
perity.  She  was  envied  and 
hated,  poor  thing,  simply  because 
she  was  able  to  do  good  and  was 
constantly  doing  it.  She  made 
her  home  a  model  of  comfort,  and 
her  daughter  made  it  elegant. 
This  made  Schney  happy  and 
comfortable. 

Mina,  growing  constantly  more 
beautiful,  and,  in  spite  of  her 
surroundings,  more  lovely  in 
character  and  disposition,  had  enjoyed  a  great  triumph 
before  the  people  by  a  remarkable  rendition  of  "The1 
Angel's  Serenade,"  in  which  she  had  played  with  such 
skill  and  effect  that  the  people  and  the  press  long  after 
wards  continued  to  sound  her  praise.  Her  father  was 
flattered. 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.  75 

The  boys  were  travelling  in  the  grandest  regions  of  the 
West  under  the  care  of  a  tutor,  and  wrote  home  letters 
full  of  happiness. 

Thus  from  the  base  conduct  of  the  father  come,  appar 
ently,  honors  for  himself;  ease  and  comfort  for  a  faithful 
wife  and  mother;  culture,  safety,  luxury,  and  triumph 
for  his  daughter ;  the  delights  of  travel  and  the  benefits  of 
education  for  his  boys.  (But  how  fares  Filter's  widow 
and  her  babes?)  The  greatest  consolation  of  all — the 
one  which  appealed  most  strongly  to  Schney  himself — 
was  a  skilfully-drawn  map  hanging  in  the  sitting-room 
of  Mr.  Schney 's  comfortable  house,  and  entitled  " Schney 's 
addition."  On  it  were  broad  streets  and  avenues,  alleys, 
and  building  lots,  laid  off  with  the  beautiful  precision  of 
the  engineer,  streets  and  avenues  named,  squares  and  lots 
numbered,  and  here  and  there  suggestions  of  fountains, 
monuments  and  flower-beds. 

While  Mr.  Schney  was  engaged  in  the  public  service 
he  learned  some  things  which  he  thought  might  be  useful 
to  a  man  who  desired  to  do  well,  and,  by  accident  pos 
sibly — some  said  by  design — consulted  Mr.  Tinkle,  a  rea] 
estate  agent,  who  was  said  to  be  a  very  clever  and  utterly 
unprincipled  man,  and  who  did  an  immense  business  for 
people  who  hoped  that  he  would  use  his  shrewdness  for 
their  benefit  and  bestow  his  rascality  on  some  one  else. 
The  result  of  the  conference  was  a  purchase  of  lands  at 
the  growing  end  of  the  city,  and — this  beautiful  map. 

Schney  bought  the  land  and  laid  it  off  for  the  purpose 


76  OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

of  making  by  it  all  the  money  he  possibly  could,  and  it 
never  occurred  to  him  that  he  had  been  influenced  by  any 
other  motive  until  the  papers  all  declared  that  he  had 
done  a  very  liberal  and  public-spirited  thing.  Seeing 
this  statement  in  print,  he  very  properly  concluded  that 
it  was  true,  and  instantly  believed  it.  Almost  anybody 
will  believe  a  thoroughly  agreeable  lie.  He  then  gradually 
convinced  himself  that  he  was  a  benefactor  who  deserved 
to  be  remembered,  and  finally  decided  to  embalm  his  name 
in  the  principal  street  of  his  plan — "Schney  avenue."  At 
the  suggestion  of  Mr.  Tinkle,  who  had  kindly  consented 
to  continue  to  be  his  agent,  he  added,  with  some  justifi 
cation,  "Pauline  avenue"  and  "Wilhelmina  fountain." 
Mr.  Tinkle  planted  trees;  the  best  engineers  graded  the 
streets;  fashionable  people  bought  lots.  It  was  a  gold 
mine. 

How  is  a  poor  fellow  who  feels  that  he  is  poor,  and 
that  he  must  continue  to  be  poor,  to  preserve  his  self- 
respect  and  his  faith  in  the  dignity  of  labor  and  the  worth 
of  character,  when  he  sees  the  deference  bestowed  upon 
the  Schneys  and  hears  constantly  their  praises  sung, 
and  compares  it  all  with  the  desolate  neglect  and  indiffer 
ence  Which  it  is  his  lot  to  endure?  Is  he  not  more  than 
human  if  his  heart  is  not  made  bitter  when  called  upon 
to  be  cheerful,  contented  and  humble  and  honest,  while 
the  Schneys  in  the  community  push  their  way  to  wealth, 
influence,  and  a  very  satisfactory  sort  of  respectability? 
The  awful  question  which  faces  the  people  is  simply 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.  77; 

whether  honesty  will  continue  to  be  honest  and  suffer,  or 
turn  rascal  and  prosper. 

It  is  already  quietly  admitted  that  a  thoroughly  honest 
man,  modelled  on  the  old  plan,  may  be  very  ornamental — 
a  desirable  sort  of  bric-a-brac — but  can  hardly  be  a  busi 
ness  man,  and  certainly  not  a  reliable  man  for  political 
emergencies.  Such  people  have  a  very  hopeless  and 
simple  air  to  "live"  men.  Sometimes  a  rascal  fails;  his 
associates  laugh  at  him  pleasantly,  and,  believing  in  his 
shrewdness,  soon  set  him  on  his  feet  again  with  substan 
tial  aid.  Then  they  give  him  good  cheer.  Good,  cool  con 
tempt  is  reserved  for  the  fellow  who  persists  in  upright 
ness  at  a  terrible  loss. 

The  most  pitiable  object  after  all  is  the  man  who,  no 
matter  how,  manages  to  get  poor  and  stay  so.  Chronic 
poverty  has  pity  occasionally  and  contempt  constantly. 
Judged  by  the  treatment  it  receives  from  humanity  in 
general  it  is  a  most  inexcusable  crime.  There  may  be 
some  hope  for  a  man  who  is  low,  mean,  shrewd,  and  pros 
pering  ;  but  let  it  once  be  known  that  a  man  is  hopelessly 
poor,  and  his  fate  is  sealed.  What  can  be  done  for  such 
a  man  ?  He  is  beyond  help ! 

Schney  (had  thought  much  about  money,  and  had 
learned  all  these  things.  He  knew  that  his  position  in  the 
community  was  viewed  from  different  standpoints,  and 
that  he  was  variously  estimated  at  everything  from  a 
nuisance  to  an  ornament.  He  was  engaged  in  an  old 
business,  called  the  pursuit  of  happiness,  and  thought  he 
was  on  the  right  trail,  but  he  was  really  fighting  his  way 
to  a  place  in  life  which  would  put  an  end  to  rest. 


CHAPTER  VII. 
THE  DEATH  OF  GRIT. 

f  I  AHE  new  Council,  with  Schney  left  out,  was  hardly 
.JL  organized  before  Mr.  Grit  began  to  develop  that 
peculiar,  restless  energy  which  in  him  always  fore 
shadowed  the  approach  of  an  election.  His  soft  felt  hat 
got  turned  up  behind  and  turned  down  before ;  his  hands 
got  deeper  in  his  pockets,  and  his  step  quick  and  short. 
People  began  to  stop  him  in  the  street  and  ask  questions, 
which  he  answered  with  a  bark  and  almost  with  a  bite. 
He  allowed  his  shoes  to  run  down  at  the  heel  and  his 
clothes  to  get  shabby.  Occasionally  he  chewed  tobacco, 
to  which  he  was  not  accustomed,  with  the  expression  of  a 
dog  eating  grass.  Every  few  days  he  consulted  Mr. 
Estimate,  watching  him  anxiously  when  he  spoke.  There 
was  nothing  ornamental  about  Grit,  but  he  was  practical 
utility  compressed.  People  who  knew  him  well  said  that 
in  an  emergency  he  was  simply  cooler  and  braver  than 
usual.  When  the  active  spirits  met  for  consultation  Grit 
led  the  meeting. 

Estimate  was  preparing  in  his  own  way  for  the  con 
flict.  He  was  rarely  seen  anywhere,  though  he  was  really 
everywhere,  and  those  who  met  him  were  amazed  at  what 
they  supposed  to  be  his  utter  indifference  to  the  approach 
ing  storm.  As  he  glided  around  with  a  sort  of  invalid 
air,  abstracted  or  sleepy,  he  would  be  the  last  man  a 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.  79 

stranger  would  suspect  of  any  schemes.  He,  nevertheless, 
had  a  few  schemes,  and  the  patience  to  wait  for  the  proper 
time  to  launch  them.  He  had  already  consulted  privately 
with  the  leading  men  of  every  faction  of  both  parties,  and, 
without  dispensing  a  single  item  of  information,  had 
learned  more  probably  than  any  other  one  man  knew. 
His  habit  of  learning  without  dispensing,  and  asking 
without  answering,  was  so  fixed  that  it  was  a  torture  for 
him  to  meet  Grit  and  be  compelled  to  part  with  one  or 
two  facts.  For  work  on  the  suburbs  Mr.  Estimate  used 
an  old  vehicle,  which,  by  some  mysterious  means,  was  de 
prived  of  the  rattling  characteristics  of  old  vehicles  gen 
erally,  and  which  could  turn  a  corner,  on  cobble  stones, 
in  the  shades  of  evening,  as  smoothly  and  as  noiselessly 
as  a  flat-bottomed  boat  glides  around  the  curves  of  a 
canal,  the  ample  flapping  wings  of  the  top  concealing 
meanwhile  the  solitary  driver.  Late  in  the  night  this 
strange  machine,  drawn  by  a  horse  whose  feet  seemed  to 
be  muffled  with  velvet,  would  dart  around  the  corners  and 
frighten  the  police  and  the  belated  citizens  homeward 
bound. 

That  the  approaching  fight  would  be  close  and  hard, 
everybody  admitted.  Estimate  was  for  soothing  every 
faction  of  his  party  and  winning  all  of  the  enemy  possible. 
Grit  wanted  to  raise  the  party  colors,  demand  a  rally  of 
the  faithful,  and  show  defiance  to  the  enemy.  Grit  ani 
mated  the  pronounced  and  uncompromising,  while  Esti 
mate  tenderly  nursed  the  fearful  and  timid  of  his  own 


8o  OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW- CITIZEN. 

party  and  encouraged  desertions  from  the  other  side, 
saying,  with  an  indescribable  air  of  generosity,  that,  after 
all,  the  difference  was  slight,  and  that  he  could  almost 
wish  he  was  on  both  sides. 

It  soon  became  apparent  that  the  leaders  were  not 
agreed  on  a  plan  of  campaign.  Indeed,  it  was  pretty  gen 
erally  known  that  they  were  hopeless  of  success  and  on 
the  verge  of  despair.  Their  only  hope  seemed  to  be  to 
fool  themselves  or  the  enemy,  but  just  how  they  could  not 
tell.  After  the  expenditure  of  a  perfectly  frightful 
quantity  of  wisdom,  a  proceeding  which  was,  to  say  the 
least,  extravagance,  it  was  decided  "to  count  the  enemy 
and  count  our  friends;  if  the  majority  on  our  side  was 
dangerously  small,  arrange  to  increase  it,  and  if  the  enemy 
appeared  to  have  a  majority,  arrange  to  cancel  it." 
This  idea  was  so  entirely  novel  that  everybody  departed 
full  of  enthusiasm  and  hope,  and  all  went  willingly  to 
work.  Two  brass  bands,  in  the  habit  of  making  big  fees 
at  election  times,  offered  their  services  free,  and  they 
were  declined  with  thanks. 

A  full  month  before  election  day  Mr.  Estimate  knew, 
practically,  what  the  result  would  be,  provided  nothing 
unusual  happened.  But  something  unusual  did  happen. 
Mr.  Schney  announced  himself  a  candidate  for  the  Legis 
lature,  without  taking  the  trouble  to  say  which  party  he 
desired  to  represent.  He  knew  that  neither  party  could 
afford  to  have  him  in  the  field  as  an  independent,  and  that 
a  simple  announcement  would  enable  him  to  determine 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.  81 

at  his  leisure  which  party  should  have  the  honor  of  elect 
ing  him.  He  preferred  to  be  with  the  better  elements  of 
the  city,  and  was  secretly  convinced  tliat  he  could  compel 
Estimate  and  his  friends  to  accept  him,  but  was  prepared, 
if  it  became  necessary,  to  go  over  to  the  enemy.  Knowing 
that  success  was  certain  if  he  sided  with  the  lower  ele 
ments  and  carried  with  him  the  liquor  influence,  and  that 
on  the  other  hand,  the  endorsement  of  Estimate's  com 
mittee  would  give  him  the  support  of  the  dominant  party 
and  elect  him.  he  serenely  waited  to  be  approached.  The 
man  who  had  been  used  as  a  bait  had  learned  to  cast  a 
line  for  himself,  had  determined  to  do  it,  and  had  no 
favors  to  ask. 

The  liquor  dealers  all  desired,  like  Schney,  to  vote  with 
the  decent  people  and  the  dominant  party,  but  were  al 
ways  suspicious  and  uneasy,  and  ready  at  a  moment's 
notice  to  desert  to  the  enemy  if  there  were  any  signs  of 
danger  to  their  interests  in  the  party  movements.  They, 
like  other  business  men,  felt  that,  after  all,  their  allegiance 
was  due  first  to  business ;  nothing  so  sacred  as  that !  The 
business  man,  whether  he  has  time  to  utter  it  or  not, 
thinks  everybody  else,  and  especially  politicians,  practi 
cally  useless.  He  tolerates  a  few  other  men,  in  the  kind 
ness  of  his  heart,  such  as  preachers,  lawyers,  chemists,  en 
gineers,  physicians,  and  so  on,  but  after  all,  feels,  in  a 
sort  of  fatherly  way,  that  it  is  well  for  all  these  that  they 
have  him  to  lean  upon.  He  is  also  inclined  to  the  opinion 
that  everything  will  work  around  all  right  if  business 


82  OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

prospers,  and  he  rather  thinks  that  the  best  way  to  keep 
politics,  religion,  and  morals  on  their  feet  is  to  build  up 
trade;  consequently  he  votes,  with  a  sort  of  supermoral 
air,  for  the  best  interests  of  business. 

In  announcing  himself,  Schney  had  at  one  stroke, 
proved  himself  unworthy  of  confidence,  and  demanded 
for  himself  the  support  of  the  people,  fixing  a  penalty  to 
their  refusal — defeat.  There  was  nothing  to  be  done 
but  to  make  terms  with  him,  and  do  it  promptly.  Ac 
cordingly  that  mysterious  and  wonderful  body  called  "the 
committee"  got  hurriedly  together,  and  after  another  per 
fectly  reckless  expenditure  of  the  very  rarest  kincf  of 
wisdom,  authorized  Mr.  Estimate  to  treat  with  Schney 
and  guarantee  him  the  party  nomination. 

Nobody  has  yet  discovered  why  it  is  that  ten  or  twelve 
men,  whose  individual  opinions  and  characters  have  no 
weight  whatever  with  anybody,  can  get  together  in  a 
political  committee  and  become  the  centre  of  wisdom 
and  influence,  and  sway  the  destiny  of  a  community.  But 
so  it  is;  at  least  people  have  gotten  in  the  habit  of  sub 
mitting  to  their  dictation  as  completely  as  if  it  was  so. 
It  is  simply  amazing,  when  one  stops  to  think  of  it,  what 
insignificant  fellows  do  their  own  good  pleasure  with  the 
helpless  voters. 

Mr.  Estimate  dropped  in  the  next  morning,  and  was 
cordially  received  by  Mr.  Schney,  who  invited  him  to  a 
cozy  place,  well  back  from  the  street,  and  quite  private. 
Some  very  fine  beer  was  handed  to  Mr.  Estimate,  who 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW- CITIZEN.  83 

could  drink  it  with  the  most  innocent  and;  orthodox  air 
possible.  To  see  Mr.  Estimate  drink  beer  was  to  confess 
that  nothing  could  be  more  innocent.  He  handled  his 
glass  in  a  manner  so  gentle  and  caressing  and  so  deferen 
tial  that  Schney  himself  was  convinced  of  his  sincere 
attachment  to  its  contents,  and  determined  to  send  him  a 
dozen  or  two  bottles  that  very  day.  And  yet  beer  was 
one  good  thing  in  the  world  that  Estimate  could  not  learn 
to  like. 

In  a  few  minutes  everything  had  been  arranged,  and 
Mr.  Estimate  was  walking  wearily  along,  exasperating 
everybody  by  appearing  hopelessly  indifferent  and  stupid. 
When  approached  by  anxious  inquirers,  he  displayed  two 
lustreless  eyes,  and  opened  his  mouth  with  a  dry  explosion 
suggestive  of  fever  and  thirst.  Instead  of  answering,  he 
questioned  all. 

Everything,  it  is  said,  has  its  uses.  Men  like  Mr.  Esti 
mate  are  therefore  useful,  and  deserve  to  be  protected  in 
the  enjoyment  of  their  peculiar  gifts.  People  who  are  of 
simpler  construction  sometimes  envy  them  and  sometimes 
fear  them,  and,  if  they  can  muster  up  manhood  enough, 
despise  them.  They  are  apt  to  be  influential  and  mean, 
and  when  they  add  ambition  to  their  other  qualities,  they 
either  curse  or  bless,  to  its  circumference,  the  circle  of 
their  influence.  They  make  good  politicians. 

It  was  now  a  fixed  fact  that  thousands  of  men  had  to 
vote  for  Schney,  and  that  he  was  going  to  the  Legislature 
to  represent  the  greatest  city  in  the  State.  Where  uni- 


84  OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

versal  suffrage  prevails  it  is  impossible  to  nominate  and 
elect  men  to  representative  positions  on  the  ground  of 
suitability,  or  capacity,  or  worth  of  any  sort.     Probably 
the  greatest  difficulty  is  experienced  in  the  nomination, 
which  is  generally  controlled  by  professional  politicians, 
rather  than  in  the  election,  which  is  simply  a  ratification 
by  the  people  of  the  candidate  of  the  politicians.     The 
determination  of  each  party  to  win,  subordinates  every 
thing  else.    It  is  useless  to  object.    When  a  poor  helpless 
private  citizen  cries  out  and  declares  his  unwillingness  to 
choose  between  two  rascals,  he  is  instantly  held  up  to 
scorn  as  a  man  who  thinks  himself  better  than  his  party. 
Possibly  he  may  be !    Nobody  has  as  yet  declared  in  favor 
of  the  idea  that  parties  are  governed  by  any  moral  sense. 
When  Schney  became  the  nominee  everything  was  con 
sidered  settled,  and  everybody  was  expected  to  acquiesce. 
The  men  who  decided  that  he  was  the  man  had  but  one 
argument  to  support  their  action — he  would  be  elected, 
of  course !     But  such  victories  bring  inevitable  defeat. 

Schney's  opponent  was  a  man  greatly  superior  to  him 
in  every  sense,  being  a  man  of  education,  of  fine  natural 
ability,  and  of  unimpeachable  moral  character;  but  he 
was  in  the  wrong  party,  he  was  fearless,  and  he  was  ag 
gressive.  His  election,  desirable  as  it  might  be  for  some 
reasons,  would  endanger  the  civilization  of  the  com 
munity.  On  the  other  hand,  it  appeared  that  the  election 
of  Schney  would  insure  good  government.  The  dan 
gerous  party  had  strengthened  its  cause  with  a  good  can- 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.  85 

didate,  and  the  party  which  ought  to  triumph  was  loaded 
with  Schney. 

Mr.  Estimate  knew  that  his  formidable  opponent  would 
poll  the  full  vote  of  the  opposition,  and  that  many  of  the 
temperance  men  would  scratch  Schney.  Altogether  the 
outlook  was  so  discouraging  that  he  resolved  to  be  satis-- 
fied  with  a  majority  of  one  for  his  candidate. 

Grit  was  duly  notified  that  every  possible  vote  for 
Schney  had  to  be  polled,  and  that  no  time,  money,  or 
labor  was  to  be  spared  to  reduce  the  voting  strength  of  the 
enemy.  Victory  was  to  be  secured  if  toil  and  strategy 
could  produce  it.  He  was  ordered  to  go  to  every  strong 
hold  of  the  enemy  and  to  man  every  precinct  with  brave 
and  determined  challengers.  He  cheerfully  undertook  the 
heavy  task,  distributed  his  men  skilfully,  and  finally  took 
personal  charge  of  the  most  dangerous  precinct  in  the 
city. 

Grit  had  worked  unceasingly  through  the  night  pre 
ceding  election  day,  and  when  the  sun  rose,  was  pale  and 
haggard  and  nervous.  Friends  supplied  him  an  abundant 
breakfast,  spoke  cheering  words,  and  wished  him  success. 

When  the  polls  were  opened  a  great  throng  of  ignor 
ance,  black  and  white,  was  seen  waiting  in  orderly  silence 
to  deposit  its  vote.  It  was  a  solid  column  of  the  enemy. 
Every  voter  was  carefully  questioned  and  the  ballots 
slowly  deposited,  Grit  protesting,  arguing,  and  threaten 
ing.  But  still  the  little  ballots  slipped  in,  one  by  one,  and 
the  number  waiting  to  vote  was  increased  rather  than 
diminished. 


86  OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

These  people  had  no  use  for  Schney,  and  were  not 
respectable  enough  to  be  dragooned  into  voting  for  him. 
Their  place  in  the  world  was  so  obscure  that  they  were  at 
liberty  to  suit  themselves,  and  thought  they  were  doing  it. 
They  thought  so  because  they  had  resisted  all  appeals 
made  to  them  by  the  dominant  party ;  but  they  overlooked 
the  fact  that,  as  a  result,  they  had  only  the  poor  privilege 
of  voting  for  the  other  side. 

The  Constitution  and  laws  under  which  we  live — 
which  we  fondly  suppose  to  be  the  things  which  govern 
us — are  mutable  things,  which  take  on  and  execute  with 
fearful  and  irresistible  force  the  wishes  of  one  majority 
to-day  and  of  another  to-morrow.  Two  great  parties 
govern  the  country,  and  are  in  turn  themselves  governed 
by  a  few  professional  politicians.  The  citizen  who  is  not 
a  politician  votes,  it  is  true;  but  the  issues  are  made  for 
him,  and  his  vote  is  demanded  for  the  issue  by  his  party, 
whatever  it  may  be,  as  confidently  as  the  government  de 
mands  taxes.  The  citizen  grows  less  and  less.  The  poli 
tician  wields  a  sort  of  elephantiasis  of  power — diseased 
power — but  yet  power.  "Private  citizen"  has  got  to  mean 
a  man  who  must  vote  and  keep  his  mouth  shut — must 
not  presumptuously  meddle  with  the  country.  Schney 
is  at  the  helm,  and  the  ship  of  state  will  be  brought  safely 
to  harbor!  The  people  will,  therefore,  please  go  below 
and  allow  the  hatches  to  be  battened  down. 

As  the  day  wore  away  discontent  manifested  itself  here 
and  there  by  grum  and  sour  looks  and  low  mutterings  in 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.  87 

the  crowds  about  the  polls.  It  was  evident  that  a  number 
of  votes  would  be  shut  out.  Active  politicians  glided  in, 
injected  a  little  bitterness,  and  glided  out  again. 

As  the  hour  of  closing  drew  nearer  the  crowd  pressed 
closer  and  closer  upon  the  polling-place,  some  of  the 
bolder  sovereigns  loudly  expressing  their  dissatisfaction 
at  the  deliberate  manner  of  the  challengers.  Grit,  nearly 
exhausted,  but  firm  and  patient,  stubbornly  challenged 
every  doubtful  vote,  and  sighed  when  compelled  to  yield. 
Suddenly  a  crier  announced  that  the  hour  had  arrived  to 
close  the  polls — that  the  polls  were  closed!  A  growl  as 
cended  from  the  crowd  as  the  door  was  closed.  Imme 
diately  a  squad  of  police  swept  around  the  corner,  and 
with  soft,  low  words,  and  gentle  but  suggestive  pressure, 
began  to  move  the  disappointed  voters  away  from  the 
precinct.  In  a  few  moments  the  street  was  cleared,  and 
silence  reigned. 

As  Grit  entered  the  precinct  to  superintend  the  count 
and  returns,  he  shook  hands  with  a  friend,  and  received 
from  him  something  with  a  silvery  glimmer  (which  his 
friend  told  him  was  "a  hammerless,  calibre  38"),  and 
dropped  it  in  the  pocket  of  his  spring  overcoat.  It  was 
understood  that  the  work  would  consume  the  night,  and 
that  it  was  dangerous.  Several  of  Grit's  friends,  besides 
policemen,  lingered  near,  ready  to  aid  him  in  any  emer 
gency. 

For  hours  the  slow  and  tiresome  work  went  on  inside. 
Those  on  the  outside  could  hear  the  monotonous  count — 


88  OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

one,  two,  three,  four,  tally!  or  the  candidates'  names  re 
peated  over  and  over  again,  or  Grit  energetically  protest 
ing.  At  last,  when  the  hour  was  past  midnight,  loud  and 
angry  words  were  heard — a  mean  fellow,  a  leader  of  the 
opposition,  gave  Grit  the  lie  flatly.  Instantly  a  gigantic 
policeman  pressed  the  door  with  his  shoulder  until  it 
flew  open  and  hung  trembling  by  one  hinge.  He  saw 
Grit  plant  his  fist,  backed  by  every  pound  of  his  weight, 
square  in  the  face  of  the  man  who  had  assaulted  him,  and 
then  fall  lifeless  to  the  floor.  A  negro  bar-keeper  and 
politician,  degraded  even  in  the  estimation  of  his  own 
race,  a  known  thief  and  libertine,  had  resented  the  blow 
received  by  his  friend  by  firing  a  ball  into  the  brain  of 
the  young  lawyer.  As  soon  as  it  was  known  that  Grit's 
wound  was  fatal,  silence  settled  upon  all  in  the  room. 
The  murderer,  speechless  and  trembling,  walked  away  be 
tween  two  policemen. 

Grit  lay  stretched  upon  the  floor,  bis  bleeding  head 
supported  upon  the  folded  coat  of  a  friend  who  loved  him 
like  a  brother,  and  who  hung  over  him  with  mixed  agony 
and  wonder.  His  pain  and  grief,  though  great,  did  not 
prevent  a  deep  feeling  of  regret  that  he  had  not  been 
quick  enough  to  get  in  and  at  least  stand  by  his  brave 
friend  at  the  critical  moment.  When  he  looked  upon  him, 
and  realized  for  a  moment  that  he  was  actually  dead,  he 
felt  ashamed  to  be  alive,  and  wondered  how  he  would  be 
able  to  endure  himself. 

It  was  a  simple  thing  after  all — a  vote  and  a  pistol  in 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.  89 

the  hands  of  a  brute.  Intelligence,  virtue,  patriotism  and 
courage  cancelled  by  ignorance  and  a  second-hand  anti 
quated  pistol !  And  yet  if  Grit  had  promptly  pulled  out 
his  "hammerless  38,"  silver-plated  and  new,  and  had 
saved  his  own  valuable  life  by  killing  a  worthless  scoun 
drel,  he  would  have  been  denounced,  in  all  probability,  by 
thousands  who  sincerely  mourned  over  his  death  and  ad 
mired  his  heroic  behavior. 

It  is  still  the  fate  and  the  duty  of  some  people  to  die. 
Generally  speaking,  good  men — the  best  men — are  called 
upon  to  submit  to  the  fate  or  to  perform  the  duty.  The 
commonplace  man  all  over  the  country  has  long  since 
abandoned  the  idea  that  anything  like  a  mere  theory  or 
even  a  principle  should  interfere  seriously  with  a  man's 
happiness  or  damage  him  materially,  or  for  a  moment  en 
danger  his  life.  He  pities  or  despises  the  fanaticism  and 
impractical  folly  of  a  man  who  gives  his  life  for  anything, 
and  he  is  for  yielding  or  compromising  or  surrendering, 
rather  than  have  his  peace  and  prosperity  disturbed,  or  his 
precious  person  put  in  jeopardy.  Therefore,  an  occasional 
death  which  illustrates  the  fact  that  there  are  fears  and 
hopes  more  potent  than  the  love  of  life  itself  is  a  useful 
stimulus  to  principle  and  a  valuable  suggestion  to  the 
community  in  which  it  occurs. 

Every  people  needs  a  man  dead  who  died  for  his  fellow- 
citizens  and  in  the  manly  pursuit  of  their  rights  as  they 
interpret  them.  A  grave  which  contains  a  sacrifice  is  an 
inspiration  to  all  who  view  it,  and,  when  properly  adorned, 


QO  OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

an  invaluable  object-lesson  worthy  of  the  care  of  genera 
tion  after  generation. 

When  people  get  to  be  thoroughly  unwilling  to  die  for 
their  principles,  and  violently  opposed  to  the  death  of 
others  on  their  account,  they  are  on  the  way  to  hopeless 
corruption.  Nothing  more  promptly  clarifies  the  moral 
atmosphere  than  the  tragic  death  of  a  great  and  good  man, 
personifying  a  great  and  good  cause.  Heaven  once  used 
a  scene  like  this  to  convince  the  world  of  sin.  God 
spurns  and  men  despise  a  cause  which  cannot  furnish 
great  spirits  to  be  consumed  by  the  conflict  which  it  wages. 

In  the  morning  the  papers  announced  a  victory  shorn 
of  much  of  its  joy  by  the  untimely  death  of  Grit. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
THE  MODERN  FOOL. 

PEOPLE  like  to  account  for  a  man's  good  fortune, 
and  everywhere  they  inquire  into  its  cause  and 
wonder  at  its  manifestations.  We  are  told  in  one  proverb, 
and  no  doubt  truly,  that  fortune  favors  the  brave,  and 
in  another,  with  equal  confidence,  the  philosopher  ex 
claims,  "A  fool  for  luck." 

In  romances  good  fortune  follows  the  author's  favorite, 
and  the  reader  is  made  happy  by  the  cunning  fiction.  In 
picturing  the  career  of  the  Honorable  Conrad  Schney, 
however,  no  such  deception  is  necessary.  His  fortune  is 
as  real  as  himself.  That  he  was  fortunate  in  business  and 
in  politics  was  so  plainly  to  be  seen  that  men  ceased  to 
wonder,  and  concluded  that  there  must  be  in  the  man 
some  mysterious  and  as  yet  undiscovered  qualities  that 
made  him  naturally  and  almost  necessarily  a  leader  of 
men.  It  was  now  pretty  generally  understood — at  least 
the  Daily  Spatterer  said  so — that  at  certain  places  and 
times — when  it  became  necessary  for  him  to  speak,  he  had 
astonished  his  hearers  by  the  fluency,  power,  and  grace 
with  which  he  had  delivered  himself. 

The  impression  was  growing  that  Schney  was  another 
instance  of  the  accidental  discovery  and  fortunate  devel 
opment  of  great  mental  powers,  destined  to  wield  a  power- 


92  OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

fill  influence  in  the  community,  and  possibly  throughout 
the  Commonwealth.  It  was  already  wise  to  speak  of 
him  with  great  respect,  and  foolish  and  damaging  to  do 
what  was  most  natural,  and  laugh  at  him.  It  is  useless, 
however,  to  laugh  at  a  man  retired  from  business,  residing 
in  a  palace,  having  a  handsome  fortune  well  in  hand  and 
an  established  reputation  for  rare  sagacity  and  great  ex 
perience  in  public  affairs.  Mr.  Schney  had  already  quietly 
retired  from  business,  his  successor  was  in  possession  and 
doing  well,  and  the  public  had,  with  its  usual  accommo 
dating  spirit,  forgotten  that  he  was  ever  anything  but  a 
polished  gentleman  and  born  statesman.  A  man  who 
dared  to  hint  that  the  Honorable  Conrad  Schney  was  not 
thoroughly  admirable,  simply  strained  the  public  faith  in 
his  own  veracity. 

A  man  so  wealthy,  so  active,  and  so  prominent  as  Mr. 
Schney  must  have  detractors,  and  so  Mr.  Schney  secured 
a  few  at  small  cost — mean  fellows,  sour,  misanthropic, 
and  envious,  such  as  can  be  found  in  every  community, 
ready  to  pull  down  honorable  aspirants  by  any  foul  slan 
der  heavy  enough.  These  assassins  of  virtue  strike  at 
every  rising  man,  impugn  the  motives  of  every  patriot, 
and  gradually  accumulate  such  a  store  of  venom,  that  men 
avoid  them  until  they  need  poison  for  an  enemy.  Such 
people,  enraged  by  the  wealth  and  rapid  promotion  of 
Mr.  Schney,  exhausted  every  art  and  all  their  deviltry  in 
their  efforts  to  damage  him  in  the  estimation  of  the  pub 
lic,  but  only  embittered  their  own  lives  and  exposed  the 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.  93 

inherent  meanness  of  their  characters.  Schney,  serenely 
insensible  to  it  all,  grew  daily  in  favor  with  men. 

The  Governor,  seeing  the  popular  demand  for  some 
recognition  of  the  distinguished  services  of  Mr.  Schney, 
and  wiling  to  do  what  he  could  to  silence  the  villainous 
attacks  of  his  enemies,  and  for  other  reasons,  no  doubt, 
appointed  him  on  his  personal  staff,  with  the  rank  of  colo 
nel  of  cavalry.  Of  course,  the  soreheads  and  the  insigni 
ficant  people  who  make  up  the  rank  and  file  began  to 
insinuate  that  the  Governor  was  acting  from  selfish  mo 
tives  and  trying  to  secure  the  influence  of  Schney  and 
his  wealth  in  aid  of  some  future  schemes ;  but  those  who 
were  best  informed  and  most  influential  soon  crushed  this 
slander. 

It  leaked  out,  from  what  or  from  where  was  never 
known,  that  Schney  was  no  novice  in  military  matters, 
had  even  won  distinction  in  foreign  fields  years  ago,  and 
was  no  small  acquisition  to  the  staff.  Unprejudiced  peo 
ple  readily  accepted  this  view  of  the  matter,  and  began 
;o  have  a  suspicion  that  the  Colonel  had  been  hiding  a 
brilliant  military  record  under  a  thick,  heavy,  long  cloak 
of  curiosity-proof  modesty.  Indeed,  the  Colonel's  ex 
treme  reticence  about  all  his  past,  and  especially  the  suc 
cess  with  which  he  avoided  any  vain  allusions  to  his  mili 
tary  exploits,  excited  the  admiration  of  the  large  and 
brilliant  circle  in  which  he  moved,  and  convinced  all  of  the 
best  people  that  he  was  a  man  of  rare  strength,  with  pos 
sibly  an  interesting  history  behind  him.  One  ride  through 


94  OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

crowded  streets,  clad  in  glittering  uniform,  sitting  in  an 
open  carriage  by  the  side  of  the  Governor,  his  sword  re 
clining  against  his  side,  his  countenance  properly  ar 
ranged  to  create  an  impression — and  he  was  Colonel  in 
deed. 

It  might  seem  a  simple  thing  to  ride  in  a  carriage  with 
a  proper  expression  and  maintain  it  unbroken  for  an  hour 
or  two,  and  possibly  to  a  Governor  accustomed  to  the 
arduous  duty  of  always  looking  distinguished,  it  is  an 
every-day,  easy  affair ;  but  Colonel  Schney,  not  being  ac 
customed  to  the  work,  found  that  it  was  no  small  matter 
to  look  like  a  colonel,  without  a  moment's  escape  from  the 
gaze  of  the  multitude  for  nearly  two  hours,  and  was  glad 
when  the  parade  was  over  and  he  could  once  more  bend 
a  little  and  rest  his  countenance  and  his  spine.  It  re 
quired  several  days'  time,  however,  to  thoroughly  eradi 
cate  the  fierce  and  determined  expression  engendered  by 
the  stern  necessities  of  the  occasion.  It  may  seem  inexpli 
cable  that  a  ride  in  a  carriage  under  military  circumstances 
should  affect  a  man's  walk,  but,  strange  and  unaccount 
able  as  it  may  be,  from  that  day  the  Colonel  had  a  de 
cidedly  soldierly  bearing  and  responded  promptly,  with  a 
brisk  salute,  to  all  who  addressed  him  by  his  military 
title.  There  were  some  old,  rather  shabby  American  colo 
nels  who  watched  Schney  with  inexpressible  amusement. 
They  did  not  find  it  possible  to  say  anything,  or  necessary, 
but  simply  pointed  at  the  Colonel,  punched  each  other  in 
the  ribs,  and  then  chuckled.  All  this  was  done  privately, 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.  95 

of  course,  because  these  old  soldiers  had  learned  that, 
while  titles  of  a  military  sort  are  very  desirable  and  very 
useful  when  presented  to  some  gentlemen  absolutely  inno 
cent  of  any  right  to  them,  and  serve  admirably  to  confer 
a  little  dignity  or  help  on  an  aspiration,  the  genuine  rank 
gained  by  arduous  duty  and  heroic  conduct  should  be 
careful,  being  somewhat  antiquated,  not  to  flaunt  itself 
in  the  face  of  a  peaceful  era  or  presume  to  compare  its 
honest  but  ancient  record  with  the  brilliant  career  of  a 
modern  patriot.  These  old  fellows  had  heard  it  said  that 
it  was  unreasonable  to  expect  able  men  like  Colonel 
Schney  to  wait  for  honors  until  all  the  real  soldiers  were 
dead,  and  that  the  eulogy  "good  soldier"  had  been  suffi 
ciently  rewarded.  And  so  it  has  come  to  pass  that  it  is 
decidedly  presumptuous  to  expect  any  consideration  on 
account  of  a  military  title  unless  it  can  be  clearly  shown 
that  the  title  was  not  earned  honestly  in  war,  but  con 
ferred  especially  for  immediate  business  purposes.  When 
thus  conferred  it  is  eminently  proper  to  make  the  most 
of  it,  and  nobody  expects  any  modest  behavior  from  the 
fortunate  recipient.  It  is,  of  course,  quite  a  different 
thing  when  a  man  goes  about  allowing  people  to  call  him 
"colonel"  when  the  title  calls  public  attention  to  what  he 
has  really  done  and  suffered.  Such  conduct  is  inexcusable. 
The  "House"  had  been  organized  only  a  few  days 
when  Mr.  Tinkle  dropped  in  to  see  Colonel  Schney  on  a 
little  matter  of  business,  and  was  received  as  cordially  as 
even  a  confidential  friend  can  hope  to  be  received  by  a 


96  OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

man  accustomed  to  the  consideration  of  the  great  and  the 
admiration  of  thousands  of  plain,  humble,  people.  A 
private  room,  wine,  cigars.  The  wine  was  for  Mr.  Tinkle 
only,  for  Schney  was  no  more  tempted  by  liquor  to  drink, 
knowing  as  he  did  its  power  over  men,  than  an  under 
taker  would  be  to  die  and  be  buried  by  the  sight  of  a 
handsomely-trimmed  and  expensive  burial  casket. 

"I  congratulate  you  upon  your  triumphant  election, 
my  friend,"  said  Tinkle,  "and  I  am  glad  to  be  the  bearer  of 
still  more  good  news.  How  would  you  like  to  become 
the  owner  of  the  Stemmery  mansion  ?" 

"The  Stemmery  mansion?    To  own  it,  did  you  say?1' 

"Yes,  my  dear  sir,  and  live  there!" 

"Why,  my  good  friend,  you  are  quite  wild,  and  think 
I  am  a  millionaire  already,  to  talk  about  such  a  thing.'" 

"Never  was  more  in  earnest,  Colonel.  Will  you  buy 
the  place?" 

"But  I  am  not  able;  my  place  at  Braxton's  is  a  good 
home  yet." 

"Suppose  I  offered  you  the  Stemmery  mansion  in  ex 
change  for  the  Braxton  place?" 

"Then  I  would  say  you  were  losing  your  senses — 
gone  c-r-r-razy." 

"Say  the  word  then,"  said  Tinkle,  "and  the  exchange  is 
made!  I  will  arrange  everything;  write  your  deed,  take 
your  signature  and  the  madame's,  and  in  exchange  give 
you  a  perfect  title  to  the  new  place." 

"Why,  of  course;  if  such  a  thing  is  possible,  why,  of 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.  97 

course.    If  I  can  have  the  Stemmery  house  I  will  take  it, 
ha !  ha !  of  course !'; 

"To-morrow,  then/'  said  Tinkle,  scarcely  able  to  hide 
his  pleasure,  and  hurrying  away;  "to-morrow  the  papers 
will  be  signed  and  recorded." 

Mr.  Schney  knew  that  Mr.  Tinkle  was  credited  with 
having  performed  some  miracles  in  real  estate,  and  that 
his  fame  as  a  brilliant  operator  saved  him  from  any  lack 
of  patronage  on  account  of  the  almost  universal  suspicion 
that  he  was  a  rascal,  and  would  not  have  been  much 
surprised  if  Tinkle  had!  sold  some  of  his  lots  for  him  at 
five  times  their  value;  but  this  proposition  overpowered 
what  the  Daily  Spatterer  called  his  "great  mental  powers," 
and  rushed  with  resistless  fury  upon  his  "reserve  force," 
scattering  it  to  the  winds.  Nothing  in  legislative  experi 
ence  had  ever  so  taxed  his  splendid  powers.  It  was  in 
vain  that  he  sought  some  reasonable  explanation. 

Schney 's  home  was  a  plain,  substantial,  roomy  old 
house,  comfortable  enough,  but  not  well  situated.  The 
surroundings  could  not  be  agreeable  to  a  man  of  Mr. 
Schney's  position  and  tastes.  The  Stemmery  mansion 
had  been  recently  completed,  at  a  great  expense,  in  the 
most  fashionable  and  delightful  part  of  the  city.  Its 
owner,  a  comparatively  young  man,  who  had  inherited  a 
handsome  fortune,  had  tried  to  build  the  quietest  and  at 
the  same  time  the  most  elegant  house  in  the  city,  and  had, 
it  was  generally  admitted,  succeeded  in  his  effort.  The 
exterior  was  an  almost  perfect  success,  and  the  interior 


98  OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

simply  palatial.  But  the  owner,  seized  by  an  almost  un 
accountable  prejudice,  was  anxious  to  try  a  new  architect 
and  new  effects  in  stone.  He  desired  to  sell. 

When  Tinkle  approached  him  with  an  offer,  Stemmery, 
supposing  it  to  be  only  a  move  in  some  sharp  game,  named 
his  price,  signed  an  agreement  to  sell,  and  soon  obliterated 
the  transaction  with  a  game  of  billiards.  The  next  day, 
to  his  great  surprise,  he  was  asked  to  sign  the  deed.  A 
certified  check  for  the  whole  of  the  purchase-money  ac 
companied  the  request.  The  same  day  Schney's  home,  the 
old  Braxton  homestead,  passed  by  deed  to  the  P.  and  Q. 
Terminal  Company,  and  the  mystery  was  solved.  The 
counsel  of  the  company  had  ascertained  that  there  were 
some  serious  difficulties  in  the  way  of  condemnation.  It 
happened  to  occupy  a  spot  absolutely  essential  to  the 
success  of  the  great  tunnelling  scheme  of  the  P.  and  Q. 
Terminal  Company,  and  hundreds  of  thousands,  if  not  a 
million  dollars,  depended  upon  its  possession.  The  man 
agement  determined  to  take  no  risks.  Mr.  Tinkle  became, 
almost  as  a  matter  of  course,  the  efficient  agent  of  the 
company,  completed  the  task  assigned  him,  and  received 
his  reward. 

At  the  end  of  six  months  the  Spatterer  had  announced 
the  removal  of  "The  Honorable  Conrad  Schney"  to  his 
new  residence  in  the  "court"  end  of  the  city,  and  fifty 
Swedes  were  toiling  over  the  ruins  of  the  Braxton  house, 
now  laid  low  by  a  dynamite  cartridge.  The  tunnel  was  well 
under  the  hill.  Mr.  Tinkle  had  in  the  meantime  made 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.  99 

another  very  satisfactory  arrangement.  The  trustees  of 
the  fund  for  the  erection  of  the  great  "astronomical  tower" 
having  accepted  a  site  in  the  midst  of  "Schney's  addition," 
the  grandest  structure  of  its  kind  in  the  world  was  slowly 
rising  from  the  centre  of  a  miniature  park.  It  was  almost 
a  certainty  that  the  tract  would  soon  be  the  scene  of 
costly  improvements  and  the  value  of  it  a  million.  Choice 
lots  were  eagerly  sought,  and,  of  course,  very  reluctantly 
sold.  The  Legislature,  always  keenly  alive  to  the  inter 
ests  of  the  great  commercial  centres  of  the  State,  was 
seriously  considering  a  bill  to  extend  the  corporate  limits 
around  this  valuable  tract. 

Colonel  Schney,  in  addition  to  his  arduous  duties  as 
representative  of  the  metropolitan  city,  undertook  service 
on  important  boards,  to  which  he  was  from  time  to  time 
appointed  by  the  Governor,  giving  to  them  all  the  benefit 
of  his  great  skill  and  experience  in  business  affairs  and 
stimulating  his  associates  by  the  display  of  almost  super 
human  energy.  At  least,  so  said  the  Spatterer,  and  for  all 
practical  purposes  so  it  was. 

The  end  of  a  long  and  tedious  session  left  the  Colonel 
free  to  seek  the  repose  to  which  his  eminent  services  en 
titled  him  and  his  natural  inclination  invited  him.  He 
realized  with  pitiful  force  the  awful  weight  of  the  re 
sponsibilities  of  a  man  viewed  by  a  great  community  as 
the  natural  guardian  of  their  rights  and  of  their  liberty, 
and  secretly  cherished  the  hope  that  the  people  would 
find  some  one  else  to  assume  the  burden  he  had  laid  down. 


ioo          OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

His  great  trouble,  at  this  time,  was  a  gnawing  fear  that 
possibly  no  one  could  be  found ! 

•During  his  retirement  Colonel  Schney  rapidly  ac 
quired  some  of  the  marks  peculiar  to  men  who  have  had 
their  great  qualities  acknowledged  by  the  world.  Though 
he  had  a  reputation  for  overwhelming  power  in  oratory, 
he  was  a  man  of  few  words  in  the  private  circle,  often 
expressing  his  approval  or  dissent  by  a  single  exclamation 
of  the  kind  most  aptly  called  a  grunt.  This  single  mode 
of  expression  was  peculiarly  effective  at  the  meetings  of 
a  large  and  fashionable  church,  of  which  he  was  a  promi 
nent  and  valued  member,  and  rarely  failed  to  produce 
almost  phenomenal  results.  Other  men  there  argued,  il 
lustrated,  and  pressed  with  fervor  their  views,  only  to 
be  annihilated  by  the  portentous  grunt  of  the  man  of 
affairs  and  of  means.  Whenever  a  presumptuous  or  vain 
fellow  was  laid  low  by  the  magic  mumbling  of  the  Colonel 
the  plainer  brethren  gazed  long  and  wistfully  at  his  heavy 
countenance,  and  then,  with  a  sigh  indicative  of  mixed 
wonder  and  humility,  turned  and  looked  at  each  other, 
nodding  their  heads,  with  wide-open  eyes  and  dropped 
jaw,  saying  as  plainly  as  pantomime  could :  "Ah !  brethren, 
there  wisdom  spoke!"  Then  the  pastor  would  say  he 
"was  sure  the  brethren  felt  under  heavy  obligations  to 
Brother  Schney  for  his  well-timed  and  forcible  words," 
and  that  "he  hoped  our  dear  brother  would  be  spared 
many  years  to  guide  us  by  his  wisdom  and  teach  us  by 
his  beautiful  example." 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.          101 

The  great  veneration  of  the  people  for  the  Colonel  was 
manifested  in  many  ways,  but  probably  nowhere  else 
could  it  be  so  plainly  seen  as  when  he  sat  as  director  of 
the  Hide  and  Bones  Bank  and  passed  upon  great  piles 
of  commercial  paper.  In  order  to  turn  down  a  very  large 
loan  it  was  sometimes  necessary  for  him  to  grunt,  once, 
vigorously;  but  he  usually  settled  the  fate  of  the  smaller 
offerings  by  spitting  in  an  exasperated  manner.  This 
style  of  comment  was  instantly  recognized  by  the  board 
to  mean  "rejected,"  and  always  caused  a  general  smile, 
designed  to  express,  as  nearly  as  possible,  full  assent  to 
the  decision  and  keen  appreciation  of  the  Colonel's  hu 
morous  manner. 

The  Colonel  had  now  reached  that  degree  of  distinction 
which  is  marked  by  a  desire  for  a  better  style  of  atmos 
phere  than  cities  can  generally  supply.  Atmosphere 
which  had  answered  his  purpose  pretty  well  for  many 
years,  and  which  was  still  used  with  entire  satisfaction  by 
numbers  of  people  who  could  not  afford  a  better  article, 
he  found  at  times  very  unsatisfactory.  Sometimes,  un 
able  longer  to  restrain  himself,  he  complained  of  it  in 
bitter  terms.  It  was  really  distressing.  At  last,  con 
vinced  that  the  atmosphere  was  hopelessly  bad,  the  Colo 
nel  hurried  away  to  the  sea-shore,  determined  to  have,  at 
any  cost,  the  very  best  air  the  market  afforded. 

Colonel  Schney  actually  believed  that  he  had  deter 
mined  to  escape  from  public  life  andi  seek  that  quiet  en 
joyment  of  his  ample  means  which  is  the  dream  of  all 


IO2          OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

men  who  spend  their  lives  in  the  pursuit  of  wealth.  He 
felt  that  his  past  activity  had  made  him  too  well  known 
for  his  escape  to  be  easy,  and  that  nothing  but  good  man 
agement  and  ingenuity  and  persistence  in  retirement  could 
preserve  him  from  fresh  entanglement  in  public  matters. 
The  man  had  learned  more  than  his  most  ardent  admirers 
supposed  he  had,  and  actually  began  to  realize  that  po 
litical  honors  could  not  add  much  comfort  or  pleasure  to 
his  life,  and  might  be  a  positive  discomfort.  He  was  al 
most  resolved  to  do  the  smartest  thing  of  his  life :  Retire 
into  obscurity  and  comfort. 


CHAPTER  IX. 
MINA'S  REFUGE. 

IN  HIS  home,  elegant  in  all  its  parts,  Colonel  Schney 
enjoyed  the  constant  affection  and  humble  devotion 
of  a  wife  so  greatly  his  superior  that  many  people,  not 
yet  blinded  by  his  wonderful  career,  wondered  how  two 
such  people  had  ever  blended  into  man  and  wife  and 
then  lived  so  peacefully  and  happily  together.  The  wife 
had  grown  in  grace  and  gentleness  even  more  rapidly  than 
the  husband  had  grown  rich,  and  amid  all  the  splendor 
of  the  home  there  was  nothing  more  attractive  than  the 
quiet  Pauline.  Abundant  means  had  put  into  visible 
effect  her  innate  taste,  and  she  was  in  manner  and  attire 
the  mistress  of  her  home. 

Mina  filled  the  house  with  music  and  songs  so  rare 
as  to  be  almost  a  mystery.  Mixing  the  artlessness  of  a 
child  with  the  skill  of  a  woman,  she  petted  and  fondled 
and  controlled  her  mother  and  constantly  mystified  her 
father.  She  had  never  approved  of  her  father's  public 
career,  but  was  yet  proud  of  his  success,  and  even  ad 
mired  him,  in  the  sense  that  the  public  did,  without  yield 
ing  to  him  any  greater  credit  than  he  deserved.  She  had 
not  forgotten  her  childhood  or  her  father's  past,  and  her 
honest  heart  compelled  her  to  review,  with  a  mind  now 
capable  of  close  analysis,  all  of  the  old  life.  She  recalled 


104          OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

with  inexpressible  pain  the  pathetic  life  of  her  gentle 
mother  and  the  awful  surroundings  amidst  which  her 
own  life  began,  and  even  proved  to  herself  that  much  of 
it  all  resulted  from  her  father's  deliberate  choice.  And 
so  she  loved  her  father,  and  at  the  same  time  studied  him 
as  a  mysterious  relative  close  to  her  by  the  ties  of  nature, 
yet  infinitely  removed. 

Thus  most  cruelly  does  a  man's  crime  punish  him, 
using  as  instruments  of  torture  those  for  whom  he  sacri 
ficed  his  virtue — and  those  whom  he  strove  to  bless  to 
illustrate  his  failure. 

Mina  could  not  understand  her  father,  because  in  her 
narrow  and  brief  experience  of  life,  she  had  not  dis 
covered  how  one  serious  fault,  or  one  conscious  surrender 
of  principle,  or  even  one  serious  indiscretion,  warps  and 
disfigures  a  man.  She  could  not  know  that  her  father, 
slowly  perceiving  what  manner  of  man  he  was,  began  to 
suspect  his  own  worthiness  and  exaggerate  the  worthiness 
of  others.  She  did  not  know  that  some  men — even  some 
considered  dull — recognize  and  evade  men  or  women  of 
superior  virtue,  and  are  humbled  in  the  presence  of  a 
strong  character,  which  they  admire  and  would  gladly 
imitate  if  they  could.  She  had  yet  to  learn  that  men  are 
repulsive  and  ridiculous,  not  because  of  many  faults, 
but  because  some  one  sin  or  misfortune  or  weakness 
twists  and  distorts  everything  in  their  lives. 

She  did  not  know  that  under  a  calm  exterior  her  father 
carried  a  heavy  load  of  care,  nor  was  it  possible  for  her 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.          105 

to  know  how  depraved  his  ambition  and  his  success  had 
made  him. 

Every  soul  confesses  to  itself  at  least,  and  does  ample 
penance  in  secret.  Men  are  vainer  on  the  surface  than 
anywhere  else,  and,  though  generally  anxious  to  have  the 
good  opinion  and  the  good  will  of  others,  do  not,  so 
commonly  as  some  suppose,  think  too  highly  of  them 
selves.  It  is  only  the  great  fools  who  are  thoroughly  de 
ceived  and  permanently  conceited.  An  ordinary  man  can 
not  be  an  extraordinary  fool. 

The  truth  is,  that  many  a  brave  man  accepts  the  esti 
mate  of  himself  which  his  honest  mind  makes,  and,  man 
fully  refusing  to  be  deceived  by  others,  lives  contentedly 
in  the  condition  and  in  the  pursuit  for  which  he  is  fitted. 
When  the  strong  motives  to  self-assertion  and  the  great 
rewards  it  brings  are  considered,  the  wonder  is  that  so 
many  are  contented  to  be  themselves. 

The  men  most  in  danger  are  those  who  occupy  posi 
tions,  comparatively  humble  they  may  be,  which  confer 
upon  them  a  sort  of  right  to  criticise,  and  at  the  same  time 
protect  them  from  the  same  ordeal.  Pointing  out  con 
stantly  the  faults  or  failure  of  many  others,  who  are  for 
bidden  to  reply,  gradually  exalts  a  man  in  his  own  esti 
mation,  if  in  no  other  way,  by  contrasting  the  small  num 
ber  of  his  own  faults  with  the  number  and  variety  of 
faults  in  the  multitude  he  overlooks. 

Schney,  by  abject  surrender  to  the  idea,  first,  that  he 
must  make  money  and  then  that  he  must  have  honors, 


io6          OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

was  led  into  a  life  full  of  perils  for  himself  and  for  his 
family.  Those  perils  which  surrounded  him  in  the  old 
life,  though  numerous,  were  palpable  and  more  readily 
avoided  by  a  simple-minded  man.  The  higher  life 
swarmed  with  insidious  evils  which  none  but  the  strong 
est  could  resist. 

Schney  knew  that  his  darling  daughter,  the  pride  of 
his  house,  was  inexorably  honest,  and  that  her  love  for 
him  was  a  constant  triumph  of  natural  affection.  He 
trembled  at  the  thought  of  her  utter  estrangement,  and 
was  never  so  happy  or  so  humble  as  when  she  laid  her 
head  on  his  bosom  and  thanked  him  for  some  thoughtful 
kindness. 

One  evening  Mina  sung,  with  a  depth  of  feeling  almost 
painful  to  herself,  a  song  of  ravishing  beauty,  which  filled 
her  mother's  heart  with  vague  distress  and  brought  un 
willing  tears  to  her  eyes.  The  father,  generally  indif 
ferent  or  simply  vain,  listened  with  unusual  interest,  and 
when  the  song  was  ended  exclaimed :  "It  is  beautiful !  I 
will  give  you  anything!"  Then,  turning  to  his  wife,  he 
said :  "Pauline,  I  have  been  a  great  fool !" 

As  the  three  sat  looking  at  each  other  with  tearful  eyes 
Mr.  Curbing  was  announced.  Mrs.  Schney  and  Mina 
welcomed  him  with  evident  pleasure,  and  the  Colonel  with 
all  the  politeness  he  could  command.  All  that  pertains  to 
the  manner  and  character  of  a  gentleman  came  in  with 
Mr.  Curbing.  Mina  had  discovered  him  at  the  Profes 
sor's  house,  and  had,  without  external  aid,  discerned  his 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.          107 

worth.  She  felt  a  quiet  confidence  in  his  goodness  which 
made  her  wish  to  have  him  for  a  friend.  He  soon  felt 
the  power  of  her  confidence  and  trust,  and  though  a  man 
unwilling  to  yield  to  the  appeals  of  others  'for  sympathy, 
and  still  more  unwilling  to  accept  it  for  himself,  could  not 
resist  this  appeal  from  a  girl  who  was  beautiful  and  in 
telligent  and  musical,  and  who  seemed  to  'be  strangely 
alone  in  the  world.  He  made  rapid  discoveries  also,  and 
was  compelled  to  admit  that  beauty  and  music  had  intro 
duced  him  to  a  character  well  worth  his  attention  and 
study. 

A  man  of  rare  purity  and  gentleness  had  met  a  woman 
who  compelled  him  to  admit — to  himself,  of  course,  and 
only  to  himself — that  it  would  be  a  blessed  thing  to  have 
a  secure  place  in  her  heart.  Her  surroundings  and  her 
family  had  no  effect  upon  him,  because  he  had  the  happy 
faculty  of  regarding  men  and  women,  whether  his  friends 
or  enemies,  as  separated  from  all  their  kin  and  all  their 
friends,  and  as  having  relations  with  him  only.  He  had 
never  allowed  his  estimate  of  any  one  to  be  affected  by 
any  characteristic  or  any  act  of  a  relative  of  any  degree. 
Neither  was  his  estimate  of  himself  changed  one  degree 
up  or  down  when  he  considered  his  own  kin. 

Curbing  was  a  man  of  a  kind  rather  rare,  who  insist 
upon  separateness  of  life,  and  live,  without  reproach,  in 
their  own  way.  When  he  made  Mina  his  friend  he  felt 
that  he  had  enlarged  his  very  small  circle  of  friends  con 
siderably,  and  that  he  had  made  a  move  as  satisfactory 


io8          OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

as  it  was  bold.  If  any  of  his  half-dozen  of  intimates  had 
insinuated  that  he  was  in  love  with  Mina  he  would  have 
felt  that  it  was  his  duty  to  avoid  her  at  any  sacrifice;  but 
no  one  made  the  charge,  and  he  was  left  to  enjoy  undis 
turbed  the  luxury  of  her  society.  She  was  his  only  female 
friend.  Even  now,  though  he  strove  to  deceive  himself 
and  think  otherwise,  he  would  have  abondoned  every 
other  friend  and  relative  rather  than  Mina. 

Colonel  Schney  was  not  much  interested  in  Curbing, 
and  stayed  only  long  enough  to  hide  his  anxiety  to  go. 
Business  furnished  an  ample  apology.  The  scene  was 
brighter  when  he  went  out,  because  he  left  together  three 
people  who,  though  they  differed  in  some  things,  were  in 
close  sympathy  in  many.  They  were  all  pure,  all  simple- 
hearted,  and  all  in  love  with  the  best  things  in  human 
nature. 

Greatly  to  the  disgust  of  his  more  practical  friends,  Mr. 
Curbing  had  devoted  a  large  part  of  his  time  to  music, 
and  was  master  of  the  piano.  There  were  times  when  he 
realized  that  his  skill  as  a  musician  was  rather  damaging 
to  him  in  certain  quarters,  and  if  he  had  been  dependent 
upon  patronage  of  any  kind  for  support,  he  would  have 
been  obliged  to  abandon  or  hide  his  talent.  As  her  father 
closed  the  door  behind  him,  Mina  rose  and  took  her 
violin  from  its  case,  while  Mr.  Curbing  advanced  to  the 
piano,  rubbing  his  hands  together  and  smiling,  and  im 
mediately  struck  the  first  notes  of  an  accompaniment. 
Mina,  standing  close  beside  him,  played  with  a  face 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.          109 

radiant  with  pleasure.  The  mysterious  sweetness  of  the 
violin  seemed  striving  to  escape — impatient  to  be  gone 
and  be  free — while  she  restrained  it  with  the  measured 
movements  of  the  bow  and  soothed  it  with  the  soft  touch 
of  her  fingers.  Every  note  from  the  piano  hastened,  in 
gorgeous  livery,  to  join  the  train  of  some  beauty  escaping 
from  the  violin.  Curbing  answered  the  appealing  tones  of 
the  violin  by  robbing  the  key-board  of  all  its  choicest 
treasures. 

It  was  the  perfection  of  music,  made  perfect  by  the 
sympathy  of  the  players,  and  all  its  weird  language  was 
interpreted  by  the  unspoken  love  in  the  heart  of  the 
woman. 

One  of  Mr.  Curbing's  peculiarities  was  his  ability  to  go 
where  he  would  and  do  what  he  would  without  exciting 
curiosity.  A  journey  from  home,  lasting  a  week  or  a 
month,  never  suggested  a  farewell,  and  he  could  return 
without  the  slightest  intimation  that  he  had  been  away. 
If  he  had  ever  had  a  trouble  he  had  never  mentioned  it. 
His  pleasures  seemed  to  be  complete  without  exposure  or 
mention  to  his  nearest  friends.  He  belonged  to  that  small 
and  mysterious  class  of  men  who  enjoy  thinking  without 
speaking ;  can  be  alone  and  not  lonely ;  full  of  information 
without  imparting  it;  intelligent  and  capable  without 
showing  it;  known  to  everybody  and  intimate  with  no 
body;  without  grievous  faults  or  striking  virtues;  without 
enemies  and  with  few  friends,  and  exasperatingly  con 
tented. 


no          OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

Everybody  supposed  but  nobody  knew  that  Mr.  Curb 
ing  had  an  income  sufficient  for  his  support,  which  came 
from  some  source  which  he  had  never  taken  the  trouble 
to  mention,  and,  as  he  never  asked  questions,  nobody  had 
ever  questioned  him  on  this  point.  His  friends  knew  him 
too  well  to  do  it,  and  other  people  did  not  know  him  well 
enough. 

People  who  did  not  know  Mr.  Curbing  regarded  him 
as  a  painfully  peculiar  man,  and  in  return,  Mr.  Curbing 
looked  upon  the  bulk  of  mankind  as  unbearably  peculiar. 
But  even  that  immense  fact  did  not  disturb  for  a  moment 
his  equanimity.  He  was  so  determined  to  be  unruffled 
that  he  never  consented  to  the  idea  that  he  was  hungry 
until  he  found  himself  enjoying  a  good  meal,  and  though 
quite  a  traveller,  never  had  his  destination  so  fixed  in  his 
plans  that  he  could  not  with  perfect  comfort  take  a  train 
going  in  the  opposite  direction.  It  was  said  that  his 
hour  for  retiring  was  when  he  was  irresistibly  sleepy, 
and  that  his  hour  for  rising  was  determined  on  about  the 
same  principle.  Everything  he  had  belonged  to  him  and 
was  his  servant — never  his  master.  When  he  had  smoked 
his  pipe  he  laid  it  down  where  he  was  and  trusted  to  luck 
to  find  it  again.  If  he  didn't  find  it  he  didn't  care.  He 
read  his  books,  but  never  worried  about  them.  In  his 
own  apartments  he  left  things  disarranged  to  suit  himself. 

Of  course  it  was  not  difficult  for  Mr.  Curbing  to  walk 
about,  the  day  after  his  musical  evening  with  Mina,  look 
ing  as  if  he  had  never  paid  a  visit  in  his  life,  and  never 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.          in 

would.  Occasionally  he  halted  on  a  corner  to  let  himself 
strike  out  in  a  new  direction,  without  positively  selecting 
it  or  determining  how  far  he  would  go,  and  sometimes 
after  he  had  started,  looked  as  if  he  might  stop  at  any 
moment. 

Mr.  Curbing  seemed  to  have  been  made  for  the  very 
purpose  of  showing  that  it  is  possible  for  a  man  to  be 
comfortable.  If  there  was  a  man  anywhere  prepared  to 
marry  a  fortune  and  get  all  the  good  out  of  it  without 
any  of  the  worry,  he  was  the  man.  Of  course  if  he  mar 
ried  Mina  it  would  come  about,  in  some  way,  without  any 
very  decided  resolution  on  his  part.  He  had  an  idea  that  he 
would  marry  her,  and  on  one  or  two  occasions  came  so 
near  fixing  on  a  definite  time  for  it  that  he  was  positively 
excited. 

Thus  warned,  he  persisted  afterwards  in  thinking  of 
the  matter  without  reference  to  time  or  place.  Sometimes, 
in  order  to  be  perfectly  composed,  he  found  it  necessary 
to  remind  himself  that  it  was  not  absolutely  certain  that  he 
would  marry  anybody,  anywhere,  at  any  time ;  and  then, 
as  if  to  illustrate  the  uncertainties  of  life,  would  commence 
to  light  a  cigar,  change  his  mind  and  take  a  pipe,  fill  it, 
lay,  it  down,  and,  instead  of  smoking,  drink  a  cup  of 
coffee. 

All  that  was  needed  to  make  the  peculiarities  of  Curb 
ing  perfectly  excusable  was  that  the  public  should  be 
thoroughly  satisfied  that  he  was  independent.  As  long 
as  there  was  any  room  for  doubt  on  that  point  it  was 


ii2          OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

proper  to  regard  him  as  a  rather  worthless  sort  of  fellow, 
doomed  to  experience,  sooner  or  later,  the  sorrows  of  a 
man  who  had  wasted  in  indecision  the  best  years  of  his 
life.  Many  careful  estimates  of  Mr.  Curbing's  real  value 
as  a  man,  and  many  wise  prophecies  concerning  his  fu 
ture,  were  rendered  worthless  by  the  fact  that  no  one  had 
considered  the  possible  effect,  in  his  case,  of  marrying  an 
heiress. 

The  wise  men  and  the  prudent  were  all  wasting  their 
fears.  This  man  without  a  purpose,  who  despised  order 
and  hated  decision,  was  already  selected  by  Providence 
to  illustrate  the  value  of  some  traits  of  character  which 
the  world  despises  as  long  as  possible  and  worships  when 
it  must. 

The  public  objected  to  Mr.  Curbing  because  he  seemed 
to  live  without  giving  the  slightest  attention  to  those 
practical  affairs  which  enslave  most  men,  and  because, 
notwithstanding  this  evident  and  serious  fault,  he  suc 
ceeded  in  being  quite  as  comfortable  and  happy  as  the 
most  practical  and  industrious  man  of  business. 

Mr.  Curbing's  eccentricities  had  a  simple  and  honest 
origin.  He  had  looked  about  him  very  carefully,  and 
had  concluded  that  the  practical  people  were  conducting 
their  affairs  in  a  manner  perfectly  satisfactory  to  him; 
that  the  world  in  general  was  getting  along  pretty  well, 
and  that  no  wisdom  or  skill  such  as  he  possessed  was  im 
peratively  needed  anywhere.  He  thought,  of  course,  that 
if  anybody  had  thought  he  was  needed  anywhere,  he 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.          113 

would  have  been  told  about  it.  It  had  never  occurred  to 
him  that  he  was  of  any  importance  whatever.  He  was 
thoroughly  worthy  and  modest,  and  therefore  an  un 
explained  mystery.  If  he  had  been  as  poor  as  many  sup 
posed  he  was,  he  would  have  died  from  want  and  neglect, 
leaving,  perhaps,  as  a  legacy  to  mankind,  a  song,  or  a 
poem,  or  a  story,  to  live  forever.  But  he  had  an  income, 
and  lived,  and  wrote  nothing.  It  is  probable  that  he  was 
so  happy  that  fame  had  no  attractions  for  him. 

It  is  said  that  men  who  are  to  be  destroyed  are  first 
made  mad.  It  might  be  said  with  as  much  truth,  that 
men  who  are  to  be  famous  are  first  made  miserable.  All 
men  who  earn  the  title  "great"  sweat,  as  it  were,  blood. 

Mr.  Curbing  was  so  determined  to  be  contented  and 
happy,  and  so  much  opposed  to  being  destroyed,  that  he 
kept  himself  in  a  good-humored  sanity  all  the  time,  and 
positively  declined  the  most  flattering  invitations  to  be 
miserable.  There  were  times  when  he  had  such  a  realiza 
tion  of  the  near  approach  of  his  wedding  with  Mina, 
and  felt  so  certain  of  it,  that  all  his  old  tricks  failed  to  re 
store  him  to  his  usual  state  of  uncertainty.  Driven  to  his 
last  resort,  he  would  go  out  and  hunt  up  a  few  slight  ac 
quaintances,  and  for  two  days  at  a  time  conduct  himself 
very  much  like  the  balance  of  the  world.  This  always 
satisfied  him  that  there  was  still  an  element  of  uncertainty 
in  life  and  in  matrimonial  intentions,  and  for  a  while,  at 
least,  relieved  him  of  the  feeling  that  he  had  absolutely 
determined  to  be  married.  Then  he  could  enjoy  a  smoke. 


CHAPTER  X. 
THE  PUBLIC  HORRIFIED. 

COLONEL  SCHNEY  having  for  a  long  time  per 
sisted  in  actively  retiring  from  public  notice,  and 
having  energetically  refused  to  take  the  slightest  risk  of 
being  nominated  for  anything  whatever,  was  beginning 
to  be  sought  after.  All  intelligent  observers  could  see 
that  there  were  great  vacancies  in  every  direction  which 
could  be  rilled  only  by  the  very  largest  and  best  men,  and 
that  the  very  best  sort  of  men  were  unusually  hard  to 
find.  In  such  a  state  of  affairs,  it  was  natural  that  the 
mention  of  a  vacancy  or  the  necessity  for  a  nomination 
should  suggest  at  once  the  fitness  of  the  Colonel. 

The  Colonel's  friends  were  greatly  perplexed  by  the 
simple  fact  that  there  were  several  important  positions  to 
fill,  all  needing  the  best  ability,  and  only  one  man  who 
seemed  designed  by  Providence  to  fill  either  of  them,  and 
that  man  trying  his  very  best  to  retire  into  that  delightful 
obscurity  which  all  men,  weary  and  wealthy,  crave. 

Everybody  seemed  to  be  agreed  that  the  Colonel  must 
be  again  put  in  the  service  of  the  people,  the  only  thing  to 
be  decided  being  in  what  capacity  he  could  serve  to  the 
best  advantage.  Some  very  wise  men,  who  had  been 
particularly  struck  with  the  wonderful  natural  powers  of 
the  Colonel,  thought  that  he  was  eminently  fitted  for  the 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.          115 

bench,  though  not  a  trained  lawyer,  and  that  if  placed 
there  he  would  be  almost  invaluable.  Others,  captivated 
by  the  eloquence  and  logical  force  of  the  Colonel's 
speeches,  as  described  by  the  Daily  Spatterer,  were  furious 
at  the  idea  of  muzzling  him  by  making  him  a  judge,  and 
warmly  in  favor  of  sending  him  to  the  Senate.  These 
two  wings  of  the  Colonel's  army  of  admirers  pushed  their 
respective  schemes,  and  though  both  propositions  were 
well  received  by  the  public,  there  was  a  mysterious  in 
difference  about  the  matter  which  was  never  explained 
until  it  became  known  that  still  another  influential  circle 
of  public-spirited  gentlemen  had  decided  that  the  Colonel 
must  be  made  to  accept  the  nomination  of  the  party  for 
Governor  of  the  State. 

When  the  suggestion  came  out  it  created  a  wild  burst 
of  enthusiasm — old  inhabitants  said  the  wildest  they  had 
ever  known — 'which  extended  as  far  as  the  utmost  circu 
lation  of  the  Spatterer  could  carry  it.  The  man  and  the 
occasion  had  met.  The  enthusiasm  of  the  people  was  ab 
solutely  uncontrollable.  Meetings  were  held  to  protest 
against  the  necessity  for  a  convention,  and  urge  the  Colo 
nel  to  announce  himself  at  once.  All  other  aspirants 
promptly  withdrew,  and  some  even  declared  it  would  be 
criminal  for  any  man  to  oppose  a  candidate  who  seemed 
to  be  nominated  by  heaven  to  save  the  State  from  immi 
nent,  irretrievable  ruin.  What  could  the  Colonel  do  ? 

For  once  in  the  history  of  the  State  the  political  ma 
chinery  came  to  a  stand-still.  All  idea  of  a  convention 
was  abandoned. 


ii6          OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

At  a  grand  dinner,  arranged  by  the  leading  men  of  the 

State,  the  Colonel  was  naturally  the  centre  of  interest. 

In  a  practical,  business  way,  the  situation  was  discussed 

and  all  present  were  made  to  feel  the  necessity  for  a 

candidate   who  could  command  money  and   who  could 

quiet  the  fears  of  all  the  sensitive  factions  of  the  party.  It 

was  clearly  shown  by  able  speakers  that  the  great  mass  of 

intelligent  and  patriotic  people  in  the  State  would  vote 

for  any  one  who  should  happen  to  be  the  nominee  and  that 

the  important  thing  to  do  was  that  which  would  satisfy 

the  lowest  element  in  the  State — those  who  stubbornly 

vote  to  suit  themselves  and  their  own  interest.    Practically 

the  meeting  determined  to  rely  upon  the  conscientious 

people  to  do  whatever  the  politicians  required,  in  spite  of 

their  personal  feelings  and  interests,  and  to  secure  the 

votes  of  the  wavering  and  unprincipled  by  any  concessions 

necessary.    As  usual,  the  decent  people  were  requested  to 

abandon  their  unreasonable  prejudices  in  order  that  the 

big-necked  and  low-browed  workers  of  the  leaders  might 

not  have  their  feelings  hurt. 

The  Colonel  was  unanimously  requested  to  announce 
himself  at  once,  in  order  that  a  vigorous  campaign  might 
be  immediately  planned.  It  even  appeared,  from  occa 
sional  remarks  by  the  speakers,  that  the  campaign  was  to 
be  a  campaign  for  the  education  of  the  people,  and  that 
it  was  to  be  directed  against  those  people  who  imagined 
that  they  knew  things — the  intelligent  and  conceited  peo 
ple — who  would  always  object  to  some  political  methods. 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.          117 

People,  for  instance,  who  objected  to  Colonel  Schney  on 
any  ground  whatever,  were  to  be  "slam-banged"  and  ridi 
culed  by  the  soft  and  youthful  canvassers  until  they  were 
thoroughly  humiliated,  if  not  absolutely  ruined.  It  was 
intimated  that  scores  of  young  men,  who  hoped  some  day 
to  be  candidates  for  something  on  their  own  account,  were 
ready  to  take  the  stump  and  educate  the  ignorant  people 
all  over  the  State  to  such  a  degree  that  they  would  see 
the  importance  of  a  victory  though  it  should  be  necessary, 
in  order  to  secure  it,  to  sink  every  principle  of  the  party 
and  of  morals,  and  elect  to  the  offices  of  the  Common 
wealth  the  scum  of  the  earth.  The  amount  of  personal 
sacrifice  that  could  be  secured  for  use  in  the  campaign  was 
said  to  be  enormous. 

All  of  this  enthusiasm  was  in  the  papers,  whose  editors 
wrote  that  there  was  enthusiasm,  and  read  in  other  papers 
that  there  was  enthusiasm,  and  amongst  the  politicians, 
who  said  there  was  tremendous  enthusiasm,  and  heard 
other  politicians  make  the  same  assertion.  The  editors 
read  each  others'  writings,  and  the  politicians  heard  each 
others'  talk,  until  they  thought  the  whole  State  was  in  a 
ferment.  Then  the  people  read  the  papers  and  listened  to 
the  politicians  until  each  man,  feeling  utterly  indifferent 
himself,  wondered  why  everybody  else  was  so  worked  up. 

One  of  the  marvels  of  the  century  is  the  fact  that  mil 
lions  of  perfectly  indifferent  people,  who  know  they  are 
indifferent  can  be  worked  up  to  a  frenzy  of  excitement 
simply  by  being  told  every  day  persistently  that  they  are 


ii8          OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

in  a  wild  state  of  enthusiasm.  It  does  not  seem  strange 
that  a  man  will  believe  anything  he  hears  about  another, 
but  it  is  a  little  remarkable  that  a  man  will  believe  a  lie 
about  himself — and  gradually  conform  himself  to  a  lie — 
which  is  only  another  form  of  the  old  proverb :  "You  may 
as  well  kill  a  dog  as  give  him  a  bad  name." 

At  a  subsequent  dinner  the  Colonel  reluctantly  con 
sented  to  assume  the  arduous  and  distasteful  duties  and 
responsibilities  so  persistently  thrust  upon  him,  and  in  a 
speech  "replete  with  wisdom,  calm,  dignified,  and  im 
pressive"  (Spatterer),  announced  his  intention  to  go  to 
work  at  once,  and,  if  possible,  to  lead  in  the  effort  to 
educate  the  helpless  thousands  of  the  Commonwealth  into 
some  appreciation  of  the  sagacity  and  patriotism  of  those 
engaged  in  the  campaign. 

The  fact  of  the  Colonel's  acceptance  was  telegraphed  in 
every  direction,  and  caused  another  tremendous  burst  of 
enthusiasm  in  the  newspapers.  When  a  plain,  simple- 
hearted  citizen  got  his  hands  on  a  paper,  and  read  in  big 
type,  "SCHNEY  ACCEPTS!!  UNBOUNDED  ENTHUSIASM!" 
he  immediately  felt  ashamed  of  himself  to  find  that  he 
was  outside  of  the  unbounded  enthusiasm,  and  wondered 
why  he  had  been  made  so  utterly  different  from  thousands 
of  good  people  around  him.  Then  possibly  he  dashed 
away  a  tear  and  resolved  to  be  a  better  man. 

Colonel  Schney  walked  home  from  that  dinner  filled  with 
tangled  thoughts  of  the  past,  the  present,  and  the  future ; 
the  past  dim  and  shadowy,  the  present  mysterious,  and  the 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.          119 

future  full  of  uncertainty  and  dread.  No  gleam  of  bright 
ness  entered  his  heart.  The  great  honor  he  was  about  to 
receive  he  now  knew  was  more  than  he  could  accept  with 
any  possible  satisfaction  to  himself.  He  knew  that  the 
honor  would  be  a  hollow  sham,  and  that  he  would  be  an 
unhappy  fraud,  compelled  to  laugh  or  to  sneer  at  himself. 
He  actually  began  to  see  that  his  honors  were  only  so 
many  certificates  of  his  willingness  to  be  the  tool  of  others 
who  had  discovered  and  used  his  weakness  and  vanity. 
At  the  hour  when  he  thought  his  ambition  would  be 
crowned,  and  his  life  would  open  before  him  in  .all  the 
beauty  of  realized  hopes,  and  bid  him  walk  in  scented  and 
shady  ways  from  dignity  to  dignity,  he  felt  instead  the 
clanking  irons  hammered  on  by  conscience,  and  lay  a 
prisoner,  bereft  of  hope,  in  a  narrow  cell  built  of  his  own 
convictions.  With  this  vision  of  truth  compressing  his 
heart,  the  Colonel  fell  asleep  to  wake  no  more. 

Between  midnight  and  morning  a  man  clad  in  a  work 
man's  garb— young,  active,  and  strong— entered  the  sleep 
ing  man's  room,  and  with  two  or  three  long  strides,  placed 
himself  by  the  bedside  of  his  victim.  He  calmly  surveyed 
the  Colonel,  noting  apparently  his  exact  position,  gave  a 
careful  look  at  his  throat,  and  then  with  a  firm,  slow,  heavy 
hand,  drew  a  wire-edged  shoemaker's  knife  across  his 
throat  just  above  the  collar-bone,  and  on  one  side,  sever 
ing  like  a  flash  the  great  artery.  Death  was  instantaneous. 
In  the  morning  the  bed  and  the  man  made  a  sight  ghastly 
enough  to  shock  a  coroner. 


120          OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

It  is  useless  to  attempt  any  description  of  the  distress  of 
his  poor  wife  and  daughter.  Fortunately  Mrs.  Schney 
was  so  prostrated  that  unconsciousness  came  to  her  relief. 
Mina  suffered  with  every  faculty  aroused.  After  doing 
all  she  could  for  her  mother,  she  dispatched  a  messenger 
for  Curbing,  who  soon  arrived,  and  was  shown  without 
delay  into  Mina's  own  sitting  room.  What  was  said  in 
that  interview  nobody  will  ever  know.  In  the  afternoon 
they  were  married  in  the  parlor  in  the  presence  of  two  or 
three  witnesses.  That  night  Mina  and  her  mother  occu 
pied  apartments  at  a  hotel.  Curbing  was  their  guardian. 
Neither  of  the  women  ever  entered  the  old  home  again. 

The  papers  made  every  effort  to  express  the  horror  and 
indignation  of  the  people  at  such  a  cold-blooded  piece  of 
butchery.  The  editors  vied  with  each  other  in  the  pro 
duction  of  feeling  and  impressive  editorials — The  Spat- 
terer  probably  doing  as  well  as  any  in  the  following : 

"The  shocking  death  of  the  Honorable  Conrad  Schney 
fills  the  community  with  grief  and  apprehension  and  in 
expressible  indignation.  The  mere  announcement  is  more 
solemnly  impressive  than  any  comments  of  ours  could  be. 
How  a  man  of  such  singular  purity  and  gentleness  can 
rouse  the  hatred  of  anything  human  must  remain  always 
a  mystery.  If  such  a  man,  whose  whole  life  has  been  an 
illustration  of  the  possibilities  of  goodness  in  humanity 
can  fall  a  victim  to  diabolical  hatred,  who  of  us  is  safe 
from  the  assassin's  knife  ? 

"We  cannot  refrain  from  expressing  the  hope  that  the 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.          121 

cold-blooded  miscreant  who  perpetrated  the  deed  may 
have  swift  justice  meted  out  to  him. 

"In  a  future  article  we  hope  to  do  full  justice  to  the 
distinguished  life  and  services  of  our  lamented  friend. 

"In  the  meantime  the  vital  interests  of  a  great  Common 
wealth  go  unguarded — a  prey  to  the  first  adventurer  who 
discovers  the  absence  of  the  great-hearted  leader  of  her 
cohorts. 

"For  the  particulars  of  this  terrible  affair,  we  refer  our 
readers  to  our  local  column." 

The  opposition  paper  very  briefly  announced  that  "Colo 
nel  Schney,  the  leader  of  our  friends  of  the  other  side, 
well  known  on  account  of  his  wealth  and  his  ability  to 
win  by  fair  means  or  foul,  and  who  was  recently  nomi 
nated  for  gubernatorial  honors  in  opposition  to  Judge 
Transient,  has  been  murdered  in  bed  at  home.  Requiescal, 
etc. 

"Particulars  in  telegraphic  column." 

While  the  police  hunted  for  the  murderer,  arrange 
ments  for  the  funeral  were  pushed  forward  with  diligence 
until  everything  was  complete.  It  was  a  great  success. 

It  was  quite  pleasant  to  be  a  pall-bearer,  because,  of 
course,  only  the  most  prominent  men  in  the  community 
would  do.  For  a  long  time  afterwards,  if  a  man  said 
"Brown,"  and  some  one  said  "What  Brown?"  the  answer 
would  be,  "Why,  Brown,  you  know,  who  was  pall-bearer 
for  Honorable  Conrad  Schney."  The  plumes  on  the  hearse 
were  tall  and  black,  and  nodded,  so  the  papers  said,  with 


122          OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

remarkable  solemnity.  Four  white  horses  drew  the  hearse, 
stepping,  neighing,  and  tossing  their  heads  in  perfect 
unison  with  all  the  other  beautiful  arrangements.  In 
consideration  of  the  passage  of  the  procession  the  sun 
stopped  behind  a  large  bank  of  clouds  and  allowed  the  day 
to  be  singularly  gloomy. 

The  preacher  did  his  part  manfully  in  a  sermon  on 
national  calamities  and  the  lessons  they  ought  to  convey. 

When  the  funeral  was  all  over  almost  everybody  was 
convinced  that  there  must  have  been  some  good  reason 
for  such  a  general  demonstration,  but  no  one  man  could 
be  found  who  was  willing  to  say  that  he  knew  what  the 
reason  was  and  that  he  was  actuated  by  it  when  he  fol 
lowed  the  crowd. 

Though  the  Spatterer  had  expressed  the  fear  that  the 
Colonel's  death  might  result  in  some  awful  and  unprece 
dented  disaster  to  the  Commonwealth,  everything  moved 
along  with  wonderful  regularity. 

Within  a  week  after  the  funeral,  tlianks  to  the  kind 
heart  and  cool  head  of  Curbing,  Mina  and  her  mother 
were  in  a  hired  house  of  their  own,  far  away  from  the 
Stemmery  and  its  horrible  associations. 

Anybody  could  see  by  the  pleased  expressions  on  the 
faces  of  the  police  that  the  murderer  was  safely  in  jail, 
with  a  good  case  against  him.  Suspicion,  arrest,  and  con 
finement  had  been  followed  by  such  an  accumulation  of 
evidence,  that  the  daily  papers  had  tried  and  condemned 
and  were  ready  to  hang  the  man  in  their  columns  right 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.          123 

away.  They  had  all  they  wanted  except  the  prisoner's 
name.  This  they  could  not  discover,  and  the  prisoner 
quietly  refused  to  divulge  it.  The  reporters  denounced 
him  for  keeping  his  mouth  shut  and  refusing  to  assist 
them  in  their  vigorous  prosecution.  Some  of  them  would 
go  down  every  day  to  see  him,  feed  him,  treat  him  to 
cigars,  chat  with  him,  shake  hands  with  him,  and  be 
sociable  generally,  and  the  next  day  give  the  diameter  of 
his  neck,  his  weight,  the  probable  fall  necessary  to  break 
his  neck,  and  the  chances  of  his  choking  to  death,  and 
wind  up  with  a  technical  description  of  the  rope  and  the 
gallows. 

Some  one  unknown  paid  the  keeper  of  a  restaurant  to 
furnish  the  prisoner  three  abundant  and  luxurious  meals 
every  day.  He  ate  them  regularly,  and  three  times  a 
day  said,  Thank  God !  Some  one  sent  the  prisoner  clean 
underclothes  of  good  quality  and  provided  regularly  for 
his  washing.  He  had  from  the  same  mysterious  source 
a  clean  bed  and  snow-white  sheets.  Flowers  came  to  him, 
and  books  and  papers,  all  evidently  from  the  same  person. 
A  lawyer,  experienced  and  able,  whose  large  fee  was  al 
ready  paid,  visited  him  regularly.  The  only  emotion 
the  prisoner  displayed  was  intense  gratitude  to  his  un 
known  friend.  There  was  no  remorse,  no  fear,  no  anger 
about  him.  And  there  was  no  curiosity  or  anxiety  about 
his  own  fate.  He  was  thoughtful,  serene,  reserved,  and 
quiet. 

Soon  after  his  arrest,  his  counsel  called  on  him,  and 


124          OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

being  struck  with  his  handsome  and  youthful  face,  ques 
tioned  him  in  a  very  gentle  and  sympathetic  way. 

"My  son/'  he  said,  "are  you  guilty  of  this  crime?" 

"Do  you  command  me,  as  my  counsel,  to  answer?"  said 
the  man. 

"No ;  you  will  answer  or  not,  as  you  please." 

"Then  I  will  not  answer." 

"What  is  your  name?"  , 

"My  name  ?  I  will  not  reveal  it  as  long  as  there  is  any 
chance  for  life." 

"You  think  you  will  be  convicted  ?" 

"'Yes— I— think— I  am  satisfied  I  will  be." 

"Have  you  any  friends  ?" 

"Not  one — that  is  to  say,  none  who  will  know  that  I 
am  here  or  who  will  come  to  me." 

"Do  you  desire  to  see  any  one  that  you  love  ?" 

"Yes,  I  would  give  the  world  to  see  my  mother,  and  I 
would  kiss  the  feet  of  the  man  who  sent  me  clean  clothes 
and  who  feeds  me." 

"Is  you  mother  living?    Do  you  know  where  she  is?" 

"If  I  did  not  know  I  would  not  be  here.  Yes,  she  is 
alive!" 

"Would  you  let  me  bring  her  to  you?" 

"Not  for  my  life.  I  would  not  have  her  or  any  friend 
to  suffer  with  me  for  one  moment  or — see  me  here.  I 
will  bear  this  alone." 

"How  has  your  past  life  been?  You  do  not  talk  like 
a  hardened  man  or  a  wicked  man." 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.          125 

"No,  not  wicked,  but  inwardly  stormy.  I  have  suf 
fered,  and  have  grown  to  be  what  I  am  under  pain.  I 
am  as  free  from  malice  and  vice  as  a  child.  I  have  no 
unkind  feelings  towards  any  one." 

"Do  you  appreciate  the  danger  of  your  position — feel 
the — the — that  your  chances  for  escape  are  hardly  worth 
considering?  I  cannot  encourage  you  to  hope;  you  must 
not  expect  too  much  from  me." 

"I  will  never  blame  you.  Indeed,  I  thank  you  now 
in  advance  for  all  you  will  do.  The  only  help  I  need  is  a 
messenger  who  will  carry  my  grateful  thanks  to  those 
who  have  sent  me  comforts." 

"Do  you  propose,  in  the  event  that  you  are  convicted, 
to  explain  yourself  at  all  ?" 

"Possibly  I  may  tell  who  I  am,  but  no  more.  I  must 
be  satisfied  with  the  judgment  of  the  world.  /  understand 
it  all  but  cannot  hope  to  be  understood.  In  my  own  de 
fense  I  will  be  silent.  To  say  the  only  things  I  could  say 
would  be  more  painful  than  death." 

When  the  prisoner  was  brought  before  the  police  court 
he  got  a  pretty  good  idea  of  the  intense  feeling  against 
him  in  the  community.  He  had  sense  enough  to  see  that 
the  public  had  determined  to  prosecute  him  with  vigor 
and  dispatch.  The  police  justice,  who  was  a  pompous 
ignoramus,  decided  legal  points  with  an  easy,  off-hand 
facility  which  would  have  been  amusing  if  the  issue  had 
not  been  of  life  or  of  death.  Besides  being  naturally  in 
tolerant  and  rather  brutal,  the  justice  felt  that  the  dignity 
of  the  victim  justified  the  roughest  treatment  of  the  pris- 


126          OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

oner  which  it  was  in  his  power  to  inflict.  He  conducted 
the  examination  with  an  ominous  frown  on  his  massive 
brow,  keeping  the  corners  of  his  mouth  well  drawn  down, 
and  succeeded,  several  times,  in  making  the  venerable 
counsel  feel  very  much  ashamed  of  himself  and  of  the 
law. 

The  prisoner's  counsel  was  glad  when  he  escaped  from 
the  place,  because,  as  he  said,  neither  common  sense  or 
law  had  any  show  there.  The  prisoner  remarked  on  his 
way  back  to  jail  that  he  might  be  hanged,  but  it  was  some 
consolation  to  know  that  he  had  been  to  the  police  court 
for  the  last  time.  He  said  he  could  stand  his  part  of  the 
outrage,  but  hated  to  see  his  old  friend,  the  lawyer,  so 
shamefully  battered  about  by  the  insolent  justice. 

The  Spatterer,  in  its  capacity  of  leading  journal  and 
general  exponent  of  everybody's  views,  was  clearly  of 
the  opinion  that  a  blood-thirsty  villain  like  the  prisoner 
ought  to  be  tried  promptly  and  hung  as  soon  as  conve 
nient.  It  sent  out  reporters  to  look  for  second-hand  gal 
lows  and  to  hunt  up  good  rope ;  published  expert  com 
ments  on  slip  knots,  traps,  necessary  drop,  comparative 
chances  for  strangulation  and  broken  neck,  and  even  sug 
gested  the  proper  disposition  of  the  body.  It  did  not 
know  exactly  or  positively,  but  it  had  no  doubt  that  the 
prisoner's  past  life  had  been  one  unbroken  series  of 
abominable  crime.  It  was  convinced  that  a  man  who 
could  eat  and  sleep  and  look  as  serene  as  the  prisoner  did, 
must  be  a  heartless  monstrosity. 

The  Spatterer  also  held  up  daily  for  public  admiration 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.          127 

sketches  of  the  life  of  the  distinguished1  victim,  dwelling 
with  irresistible  pathos  upon  his  unprecedented  purity  and 
gentleness,  and  telling,  with  every  appearance  of  quiet 
truthfulness,  of  splendid  deeds  of  charity  now  for  the 
first  time  made  public.  But  all  these  things  were  nothing- 
compared  with  the  fact  that  this  man,  so  richly  endowed, 
had  spent  a  long  life  in  unselfish  service  of  the  people, 
forgetful  of  everything  but  the  public  good.  In  fact,  this 
murderer  had  just  gone  and,  with  one  stroke  of  a  shoe 
maker's  knife,  made  the  public  a  perfectly  inconsolable 
and  helpless  orphan!  The  Spatterer  thought  that  the 
trial  ought  to  be,  and  would  be,  a  mere  form,  to  be  fol 
lowed  by  the  satisfactory  reality  of  a  well-arranged 
hanging. 

Of  course,  with  everything  arranged  beforehand,  the 
trial  was  a  simple  affair.  The  jury  knew  what  they  were 
expected  to  do.  The  witnesses  were  few  and  their  testi 
mony  brief  and  convincing.  When  the  points  of  law 
made  by  counsel  were  difficult,  and  the  judge  did  not 
know  what  to  do,  he  adjourned  the  court  until  next  day 
and  asked  somebody  who  did  know.  The  next  day  he 
would  decide  with  a  promptness  almost  startling. 

The  prisoner  convinced  every  one  who  saw  him,  ex 
cept  those  who  were  resolved  to  hang  him,  that  he  was 
a  modest,  rather  gentle,  quiet  man.  As  he  sat  in  court, 
as  calm  as  the  judge  himself,  his  face  was  read  by  thous 
ands  who  came  and  went.  No  one  read  anything  there 
but  deep  sadness.  His  whole  figure  suggested  lonesome 
helplessness.  Of  all  the  throng  that  pressed  him,  not 


128          OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

one  stretched  a  hand  to  help  him;  there  was  no  eye  that 
pitied  him;  not  one  word  of  sympathy  fell  on  his  ear. 
Murderer  though  he  was,  there  must  have  been  some 
tonic  in  his  heart  which  enabled  it  to  beat  on  in  the  midst 
of  almost  brutal  indifference.  Excepting  his  counsel,  he 
had  not  been  approached  by  a  single  friend.  Though 
he  might  deserve  the  penalty  in  store  for  him,  it  is  doubt 
ful  if  he  deserved  this  cruel  isolation.  The  verdict  was 
guilty. 

The  trial  fixed  the  crime  upon  the  prisoner  beyond  a 
doubt.  His  counsel  abandoned  the  idea  of  appeal,  and 
urged  him  to  prepare  at  once  for  the  final  scene. 

When  the  prisoner  was  -arraigned  to  receive  sentence, 
and  was  asked  if  he  had  anything  to  say  why  sentence 
should  not  be  pronounced,  he  turned  to  the  crowd  in  the 
court-room  and  searched  every  face  within  reach  of  his 
vision,  his  countenance  growing  rapidly  sadder  and  sad 
der.  Having  finished  his  survey,  he  turned  again  to  the 
judge  and  said:  "My  heart  is  full  of  strange  emotions — 
new  and  startling.  I  would,  but  cannot,  express  them. 
There  is  no  language  for  what  I  feel.  I  think  if  I  could 
lay  my  head  on  my  mother's  bosom  she  would  interpret 
my  tears.  No  other  heart  but  hers  is  worthy  or  able  to 
know  my  anguish  now.  I  am  done." 

The  prisoner  disappeared,  and  was  only  of  occasional 
interest  until  the  fatal  day  arrived  and  launched  him  into 
eternity. 

The  Spatterer  reluctantly  published  nine  columns  of  the 
details. 


CHAPTER  XL 
CONCLUDING  WITH  A  MEDLEY. 

THE  information  which  the  public  received  from  the 
time  the  prisoner  was  sentenced  until  his  execution 
was  derived  mainly  from  the  columns  of  the  Spatterer. 
The  able  reporters  of  that  journal,  feeling  that  they  had 
arrested,  tried  and  convicted  the  prisoner,  and  would  prob 
ably  be  compelled  to  keep  the  officials  up  to  the  duty  of 
hanging  him,  paid  regular  visits  to  the  jail,  and  did  all 
in  their  power  to  keep  the  indignation  of  the  public 
warmed  up.  They  said  that  the  prisoner's  assumption  of 
gentle  manners  was  the  most  superb  acting  it  had  ever 
been  their  pleasure  to  study,  and  that  his  personal  cleanli 
ness,  politeness,  and  serenity  were  only  the  cute  tricks  of 
villainy.  One  reporter  stated  positively  that  he  had  seen 
him  eating  as  naturally  as  the  most  innocent  man  in  the 
community.  Another  member  of  the  staff  informed  the 
public  that  he  had  tested  the  prisoner's  feelings  by  giving 
him  a  graphic  description  of  the  last  bungling  execution 
in  the  jail,  in  which  the  man  was  cruelly  strangled,  and 
that  at  the  conclusion  the  prisoner  smiled. 

All  of  the  reporters  agreed  that  the  prisoner  had  never 
shown  a  symptom  of  fear;  that  he  had  never  asked  a 
favor  or  courted  the  sympathy  of  a  single  human  being. 
Nobody  had  noticed  a  word  or  a  look  that  indicated  the 


130          OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

slightest  interest  in  his  own  case.  The  reporters  all 
omitted  to  say  that  the  prisoner  had  politely  snubbed 
them  every  one,  and  that  all  their  efforts  to  bully  him 
and  break  down  his  self-respect  had  signally  failed. 

The  prisoner  was  repeatedly  urged  to  prepare  a  state 
ment  for  the  press,  but  regularly  declined,  saying,  by  way 
of  explanation,  that  the  conduct  of  the  reporters  who  had 
visited  him  demonstrated  the  fact  that  any  statement  he 
might  make  would  be  remorselessly  used  against  him. 

It  was  evident  that  the  prisoner  had  a  thorough  appre 
ciation  of  the  bitterness  of  the  public,  realized  fully  that 
he  was  abandoned,  regarded  his  fate  as  fixed,  and  was 
waiting  without  impatience  or  weariness  for  the  end. 
To  the  last  he  refrained  from  uttering  a  word  of  com 
plaint  or  regret. 

As  the  day  for  the  execution  drew  near,  the  Spatterer 
became  more  and  more  anxious  to  have  a  full  confession 
from  the  murderer  to  lay  before  its  readers.  The  editors 
and  owners  evidently  felt  that  they  owed  it  to  their  thous 
ands  of  subscribers,  and  ought  to  have  it  if  it  could  be 
obtained.  After  writing  several  very  able  editorials — in 
tended  to  whet  the  appetite  of  the  public — in  which  they 
set  forth  the  great  value  of  confessions  in  general,  and  of 
murderers'  confessions  in  particular,  they  prepared  one 
more,  which  was  clearly  intended  to  convince  the  pris 
oner  that  he  owed  it  to  the  community — now  about  to 
choke  him  to  death — to  vindicate  their  wisdom  and  justice 
by  a  full  confession  of  his  bloody  crime.  The  editor 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.          131 

thought  it  would  be  really  mean  for  the  man  to  allow  him 
self  to  be  hung  without  relieving  the  community  of  a 
certain  feeling  of  uncertainty  which  oppressed  it,  and 
therefore  urged  him  to  lay  aside  his  morbid  interest  in 
his  merely  personal  affairs,  and  write  something  really 
satisfactory  for  the  columns  of  the  Spatterer.  In  conclu 
sion,  the  editor  thought  that  after  a  little  reflection,  the 
prisoner  would  see  the  reasonableness  of  their  request. 

Finding  that  their  appeals  to  the  public  spirit  of  the 
prisoner  had  no  effect,  and  that  he  persisted  in  his  selfish 
determination  to  remain  silent,  the  Spatterer  flatly  de 
clared  that  it  was  done  with  him,  and  would  print  nothing 
from  his  pen  except  at  full  schedule  rates.  He  was  also 
informed  by  indirect  remarks  that  his  ingratitude  to  the 
press  had  convinced  the  people  of  his  guilt  as  thoroughly 
as  if  he  had  written  and  signed  his  confession. 

According  to  the  account  of  the  Spatterer,  the  execution 
was  a  very  ordinary  affair.  The  members  of  the  staff 
said  they  had  tried  very  hard  to  feel  some  interest  in  the 
prisoner,  but  that  he  had  been  so  distant  and  reserved, 
and  had  manifested  such  lack  of  confidence  in  the  justice 
and  fairness  and  consideration  of  the  press,  that  they 
really  found  it  unpleasant  to  write  up  the  details.  But  for 
the  fact  that  the  condemned  man  had,  at  the  last  moment 
revealed  his  name,  and  thus  simply  justified  their  vigorous 
prosecution  of  the  case,  they  would  have  passed  the  matter 
by  with  a  simple  statement  that  the  criminal  had  duly 
paid  the  penalty  of  his  crime. 


132          OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

After  the  black  cap  was  drawn  over  his  face  the  pris 
oner  said:  "Is  this  the  last  moment?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  sheriff;  "do  you  wish  to  say  anything?" 

"Only  this/  replied  the  prisoner,  "and  I  beg  you  to  note 
it  well :  "My  name  is  Filter,  and  you  will  find  my  mother 
at  the  almshouse." 

In  the  evening  his  mother  came  down  and  wept  over 
the  body.  As  she  was  about  to  depart  she  took  from  her 
bosom,  where  it  had  been  long  concealed,  her  engagement 
ring.  A  diamond  flashed  upon  it.  Handing  it  to  a  gen 
tleman  standing  by,  she  begged  him  to  spend  it  upon  the 
burial  of  her  boy.  The  next  day  the  ring  was  returned 
to  her  with  a  note  to  the  effect  that  her  boy  had  received 
decent  burial  at  the  hands  of  a  friend,  who  would  not 
forget  the  mother. 

The  Spatterer,  after  a  brief  account  of  the  execution 
and  of  the  insolent  appearance  of  the  abandoned  mother 
at  the  jail,  proceeded  to  unravel  the  motives  of  the  wretch 
who  "so  cruelly  murdered  our  late  distinguished  fellow- 
citizen,  and  had  at  last  suffered  the  just  penalty  of  the 
law." 

"The  prisoner's  announcement  of  his  name,"  the  Spat 
terer  thought,  was  exceedingly  fortunate,  because  it  re 
lieved  the  whole  affair  of  doubt  and  completely  cleared  up 
the  mystery. 

"Years  ago,  when  Colonel  Schney  was  a  prosperous 
merchant,  and  before  he  had  entered  upon  his  brilliant 
career  as  a  statesman,  he  had  lavished  his  means  upon  an 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.          133 

unprincipled  wretch  by  the  name  of  Filter.  All  his  friend 
ly  efforts  were  futile.  In  spite  of  almost  princely  aid 
from  his  noble  benefactor,  Filter  sunk  lower  and  lower 
until  he  was  recognized  as  a  worthless  inebriate  utterly  be 
yond  help.  After  he  had  exhausted  the  sympathy  and 
wasted  the  lavish  benefactions  of  Colonel  Schney,  Filter 
gradually  conceived  the  idea  that  Schney  had  robbed  and 
ruined  him.  His  bitter  denunciations  of  his  disinterested 
friend  sunk  into  the  minds  of  his  wife  and  children,  and, 
it  seems,  produced  terrible  fruit. 

"Filter  finally  died  in  a  drunken  debauch,  and  his  wife 
and  children  disappeared  mysteriously  from  the  com 
munity.  We  have  since  learned  that  the  younger  children 
died ;  that  the  eldest  went  to  sea,  and  that  the  mother,  a 
bad  woman,  we  are  told,  landed  at  last  in  the  almshouse. 

"A  day  or  two  before  the  murder  a  man,  now  known  to 
have  been  Filter,  applied  at  the  almshouse  for  information 
concerning  the  woman,  Filter,  and  her  children,  and  was 
informed  of  the  death  of  the  children.  When  asked  if 
he  desired  to  see  Mrs.  Filter,  he  replied  that  he  might 
call  again,  later,  to  see  her,  but  was  then  too  busy  to  stop. 

"The  man's  life,  the  facts  developed  during  the  trial, 
and  all  that  we  have  learned  since  the  execution — every 
thing — points  to  the  conclusion  that  Filter,  when  he  cut 
the  throat  of  our  amiable  and  worthy  friend,  thought  he 
was  avenging  his  father's  ruin,  the  death  of  his  little 
brother  and  sister,  and  the  long  years  of  poverty  and  hu 
miliation  and  suffering  which  his  mother  had  endured. 


134          OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

"How  mysterious  are  the  ways  of  that  Providence 
which  permits  the  progeny  of  vice  to  live  to  gather 
strength  and  venom  sufficient  to  slay  matured  wisdom 
while  it  snatches  a  few  moments  of  rest  from  unselfish 
labor ! 

"Young  Filter,  returning  from  his  aimless  wanderings, 
learns  of  his  mother's  distress  and  of  the  death  of  her 
children.  Prepared  probably  by  a  previous  course  of  vice, 
he  resolves  upon  the  death  of  his  father's  best  friend,  and 
almost  immediately  proceeds  to  the  execution  of  his  re 
solve. 

"The  public  has  learned  from  our  columns  how  well 
he  did  the  ghastly  work." 

While  the  trial  was  progressing,  the  circulation  of  the 
Spatterer  was  immense,  and  when  the  excitement  sub 
sided  the  proprietors  found  that  they  had  secured,  as  a 
net  result,  nineteen  new  subscribers. 

Curbing  got  so  tired  of  the  paper  and  what  it  said 
about  him  and  his  wife  and  his  fortune,  and  "the  distin 
guished  career  of  our  late  friend,"  that  he  got  Tinkle  to 
buy  the  plant  and  good-will,  sold  the  plant  to  a  junk-shop, 
burnt  up  the  good-will,  and  had  afterwards  a  few  months' 
rest. 

It  was  not  long  before  everybody  found  out  that  Curb 
ing,  though  not  quite  as  wealthy  as  his  wife,  had  a  hand 
some  fortune  of  his  own,  and  that  many  of  his  peculiari 
ties,  which  had  been  regarded  as  ridiculous  eccentricities, 
were  simply  the  natural  manner  of  a  man  who  consulted 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.          135 

his  own  pleasure  and  comfort,  with  utter  indifference  to 
the  opinions  of  a  public  of  which  he  was  entirely  inde 
pendent. 

After  the  incineration  of  the  Spatterer  very  little  was 
said  about  the  deceased  Colonel,  but  the  remaining  papers 
did  their  best  to  keep  Curbing  and  his  wife  before  the 
public.  They  called  attention  to  the  fact  that  Mr.  Curb 
ing,  though  abundantly  able  to  conduct  a  handsome  estab 
lishment,  was  still  residing  in  a  small  rented  house,  and 
that  he  was  conducting  himself  in  a  quiet,  gentlemanly 
way  quite  surprising.  They  mentioned  the  fact  that  his 
wife  was  extremely  modest  and  unassuming;  that  she 
was  beautiful  and  wealthy  and  accomplished ;  that  she  was 
charitable  and  pious,  and',  to  all  appearances,  happy.  All 
of  these  things  about  Mina,  and  some  few  things  about 
Curbing,  they  repeated  until  they  began  to  realize  that  it 
was  simply  ridiculous.  They  tried  every  way  to  find 
something  new  to  say,  but  Curbing  was  too  smart  for 
them.  He  and  his  wife  managed  almost  without  an  effort 
to  do  nothing  remarkable  enough  to  excuse  a  mention  of 
it  in  the  papers.  Curbing  actually  paid  one  or  two  of  the 
"personal"  reporters  to  let  him  alone.  This  he  did  purely 
for  the  benefit  of  his  friends,  because  he  never  read  the 
local  papers  except  by  accident. 

Fortunately  theire  Were  some  things  which  the  re 
porters  never  discovered  which  would  have  made  good 
items,  and  would  have  proved  that  Curbing  was  still  going 
right  along  doing  what  he  considered  to  be  the  right  thing 
to  do  without  consulting  the  press. 


136          OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

Curbing  was  leading  and  Mina  was  following  with  all 
her  heart.  They  had  so  simplified  the  ordinarily  cum 
brous  arrangements  of  home  that  they  were  free  to  go  and 
come  as  fancy  suggested,  and  to  devote  as  much  time  as 
they  pleased  to  congenial  employments.  They  had  one 
secret.  They  had  agreed  that  their  joint  wealth  should 
be  at  the  instant  disposal  of  each,  without  question  or  ac 
count.  Not  a  word  passed  between  them  by  way  of  ex 
planation,  but  they  understood  each  other  perfectly. 
Every  dollar  they  had  was  pledged  to  cure,  as  far  as  pos 
sible,  any  pain  or  sorrow  which  could  be  traced  to  a 
source  in  Schney's  old  business. 


CHAPTER  XII. 
IN  WHICH  WE  PART. 

MR.  AND  MRS.  Curbing  had  their  own  ideas  of 
comfort.  Three  times  each  day  a  man  servant  ap 
peared  and  placed  a  simple  meal  on  the  table.    When  the 
meal  was  finished  every  trace  of  it  disappeared.    One  ser 
vant  woman  kept  the  house  in  order.     Nobody  went  to 
market  or  to  the  grocer's.    The  caterer  who  supplied  the 
table  understood  that  he  was  to  be  paid  handsomely,  and' 
was  expected  to  provide  elegantly.    Curbing  wanted  time 
to  read,  time  for  music,  and  time  to  think.    Mina  wanted 
time  to  pet  and  console  her  mother  and  run  around  with 
her  husband.    Both  of  them  wanted  time  to  spend  money 
on  all  sorts  of  people.    They  had  no  time  to  keep  house. 
Mr.  Curbing  always  confessed  that  he  was  not  a  prac 
tical  man,  and  had  no  desire  to  be  one.    With  the  cheerful 
consent  of  his  wife  and  her  mother,  he  placed  his  fortune 
and  hers  in  the  hands  of  a  good  trust  company,  and  never 
bothered  himself  further    than    to    check  for    what    he 
wanted.     His  wife  also  learned  to  draw  checks.     They 
literally  paid  their  way  over  or  around  all  the  ordinary 
annoyances  of  life,  and  lived  for  the  higher  pleasures  of 
mind  and  heart. 

The  old  lady  gave  the  Stemmery  mansion  to  the  trus 
tees  of  "The  Home  for  Crippled  Children,"  and  Mina  and 
Curbing  endowed  the  home  handsomely.  It  was  soon 


138          OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

occupied  by  a  throng  of  frail  orphans  of  both  sexes,  all 
deformed  or  mutilated,  and  all  as  happy  as  love  and 
bounty  could  make  them. 

Mrs.  Filter  was  there  charged  with  the  duty  of  loving 
the  children  as  much  like  a  mother  as  possible.  This  was 
all  that  she  was  expected  to  do.  She  had  a  separate  en 
dowment.  Whenever  Curbing  saw  the  diamond  he  was 
tempted  to  tell  her  that  he  saved  it  for  her,  but  he  never 
spoke  of  it. 

When  Curbing  first  proposed  to  Mina  to  feed  the  pris 
oner  and  send  him  clothing,  she  was  surprised,  but  soon 
recognized  the  suggestion  as  perfectly  in  keeping  with 
her  husband's  character,  and  finally  became  his  active 
partner  in  the  work.  She  added  books  and  flowers  and 
snow-white  bedding.  When  she  was  told  that  young 
Filter  was  the  murderer,  she  fell  upon  her  husband's  neck 
and  thanked  him  again  and  again  for  having  suggested  a 
simple  charity  which,  she  said,  would  make  her  happier 
than  she  had  ever  hoped  to  be.  This  pleased  Curbing, 
and  induced  him  to  confess  that  he  employed  and  paid 
the  counsel  for  the  defense.  A  long  time  afterwards  he 
told  Mina  that  he  recognized  Filter  soon  after  his  arrest, 
and,  being  convinced  of  his  motive,  determined  at  once 
to  defend  him  and  to  look  after  his  comfort  in  jail,  be 
cause  he  knew  that  when  all  was  known  it  would  be  a 
comfort  to  her.  He  said  he  had  even  then  no  doubt  of 
the  prisoner's  guilt,  and  no  idea  that  he  could  escape  the 
penalty. 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.          139 

Mina  was  the  only  human  being  he  ever  told  about  his 
visit  to  the  jail  to  rescue  the  body  from  the  anatomy  stu 
dents  of  the  college.  When  he  told  of  his  good  fortune  in 
receiving  the  ring,  and  the  pleasure  he  had  in  restoring 
it  to  Mrs.  Filter,  Mina  was  ready  to  fall  on  her  knees  in 
tearful  worship. 

From  this  hour  Mina's  life  was  an  unending  succession 
of  happy  scenes,  thrown  up  into  captivating  beauty  by  the 
soft  background  of  all  her  old  sorrows.  Curbing  was  the 
light  of  her  life. 

There  was  one  room  in  Mr.  Curbing's  house  which 
would  make  a  stranger  suspect  that  the  owner  was  a  dealer 
in  musical  instruments.  But  nothing  there  was  for  sale. 
Every  battered  thing  was  an  old  relic  dear  to  the  master 
and  the  mistress  of  the  house.  Curbing  was  peculiar  in 
this,  that  he  would  not,  for  any  consideration,  sell  an  old 
friend  even  in  the  shape  of  a  guitar  that  was  warped,  or 
a  violin  crushed  and  voiceless.  That  room  was  Professor 
Snuff's  nearest  approach,  in  life,  to  heaven.  Curbing 
spent  large  sums  of  money  on  surgeons  and  on  appliances, 
and  held  not  his  hand  until  the  Professor  was  furnished 
with  a  new  aluminum  spine,  which,  in  conjunction  with 
sundry  straps  and  devices,  actually  enabled  the  old  gentle 
man  to  sit  up,  and  even  to  ride  in  Curbing's  carriage  to 
Curbing's  house  and  sit  at  Curbing's  table  and  eat  Curb 
ing's  fine  fare.  When  he  was  the  guest  Mina  was  the 
maid  who  danced  attendance.  Curbing  was  the  happy 
butler  and  man  of  all  work.  The  Professor  was  himself 


140          OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

again.    Did  that  trio  make  any  music?     Listen!  and  you 
may  hear  it  now. 

There  was  another  room  which  Curbing  called  "the 
chapel."  It  was  Mina's.  Those  who  were  permitted  to 
see  it  said  it  was  pure  and  sweet  and  simple.  Curbing 
never  entered  it  without  assuming  the  attitude  and  man 
ner  of  a  guest  who  knew  the  importance  of  conducting 
himself  modestly  and  appreciated  the  delicate  hospitality 
of  the  place.  And  yet  it  was  just  there  that  he  was  al 
together  at  home. 

There  was  still  another  room,  the  largest  of  all,  which 
was  absolutely  the  property  of  Mr.  Curbing.  In  it  dis 
order  reigned.  There  were  boxes  of  smoking  tobacco 
almost  everywhere.  Seated  in  any  chair  in  the  room  a 
visitor  could  easily  reach  a  pipe  and  tobacco  or  pick  up 
several  varieties  of  cigars.  Match  boxes  of  every  size  and 
shape  were  as  plentiful  as  if  the  business  of  life  was 
mainly  to  light  pipes.  To  secure  himself  against  having 
to  hunt  for  a  match,  Mr.  Curbing  kept  a  small  gas  jet 
burning,  and  near  by  it  a  Japanese  jar  of  orange  wood 
ribbons.  There  were  chairs  in  the  room  made  evidently  to 
sit  in.  They  were  ingeniously  designed  and  well  con 
structed,  and  a  solace  and  surprise  to  those  who,  for  the 
first  time,  tested  their  ability  to  rest  the  human  frame. 
Books  were  there,  of  course,  and  tempting  magazines  with 
the  leaves  uncut.  Pictures  of  small  cost,  in  all  sorts  of 
odd  frames,  were  hung  up  and  laid  about  everywhere. 
They  had  merit  or  meaning.  Whenever  Mr.  Curbing  be- 


OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN.          141 

gan  to  feel  that  he  was  certainly  married,  and  that  Mina 
was  no  longer  his  sweetheart  only,  but  his  wife  forever, 
he  would  go  to  this  room  and  spend  an  hour  or  two  trying 
to  feel  uncertain  about  it.  While  there  he  would  laugh 
right  out,  a  thing  he  rarely  ever  did,  and  examine  all  his 
broken  pipes  with  evident  interest  and  curiosity.  Knowing 
that  nobody  was  watching  him  he  walked  from  picture  to 
picture  and  gazed  at  each  one  until  he  was  satisfied.  After 
assuring  himself  that  several  old  books  that  he  loved  were 
still  there,  and  that  nobody  had  disturbed  anything  since 
his  last  visit,  he  would  close  the  door  and  rejoin  his  wife 
with  an  air  of  embarrassment  which  she  always  under 
stood.  He  was  always  afraid  that  she  might  ask  him  if  he 
had  been  to  his  room,  and  that  he  would  have  to  confess. 
But  Mina  was  no  fool;  she  was  too  happy  to  be  a  fool. 

Mrs.  Schney  slowly  faded  away,  and  died  saying, 
"Thank  you,  my  dear." 

Judge  Transient  gained  an  easy  victory  over  Estimate, 
who  was  nominated  in  place  of  Schney,  and  the  State  fell 
into  the  hands  of  her  worst  foes. 

All  the  dangerous  elements  of  the  voting  population 
which  had  made  Colonel  Schney  a  possibility  and  his  can 
didacy  a  necessity,  went  over  to  the  opposition  and  did  all 
they  could  to  bring  on  what  now  seemed  to  be  irretriev 
able  ruin. 

This  overwhelming  calamity  revived  the  memory  of  the 
Colonel,  and  caused  many  a  disappointed  politician  to 
curse  the  name  of  Filter.  They  all  declared  that  if  Schney 
had  lived  the  result  would  have  been  reversed. 


142          OUR  DISTINGUISHED  FELLOW-CITIZEN. 

On  the  same  principle  it  might  be  said  that  if  young 
Filter,  the  murderer,  had  died  when  the  other  children 
starved,  the  result  might  have  been  different.  Or,  to  go 
back  further  still,  if  the  elder  Filter  had  not  wasted  his 
fortune,  and  had  not  died  a  drunkard,  but  had  lived  to 
provide  for  his  wife  and  children,  that  would  have 
changed  the  result. 

Every  misfortune  has  deep  roots  well  buried  in  the 
past.  The  bitter  fruit  of  to-day  comes  from  a  seed  long 
since  planted,  perhaps  by  the  hand  of  some  one  dead  and 
forgotten.  Evil  needs  no  cultivation.  Good  and  evil 
mixed  is  pure  evil.  Virtue  never  compromises;  if  it  does, 
it  is  no  longer  virtue,  but  vice.  The  science  of  compro 
mise  is  the  devil's  specialty. 

Schney  cut  his  own  throat;  his  party  defeated  itself 
and — ruined  a  Commonwealth. 

They  call  the  baby  Pauline. 


FINIS. 


McCarthy, 


955 
M1232 


Our  di 
fellows  it 


anguished 


our 


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